


White Collar Crime

by Shepherdess



Category: Hanson (Band)
Genre: Mild Language, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-08
Updated: 2015-10-10
Packaged: 2018-04-11 23:50:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 52,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4457237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shepherdess/pseuds/Shepherdess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Taylor is arrested for embezzlement, Isaac's world spirals into utter chaos. Taylor is thrust into the general prison population, where he is the object of unwanted attention. Meanwhile, Zac allows his anger at Taylor's betrayal to take him down a dangerous path. Isaac is torn between his brothers as he fights to keep his family together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Arrested

**Author's Note:**

> Story Info:  
> Title: While Collar Crime  
> Genre: Drama, Crime  
> POV: First person - multiple
> 
> Warnings: Mild language, Some adult situations
> 
> Summary: When Taylor is arrested for embezzlement, Isaac's world spirals into utter chaos. Taylor is thrust into the general prison population, where he is the object of unwanted attention. Meanwhile, Zac allows his anger at Taylor's betrayal to take him down a dangerous path. Isaac is torn between his brothers as he fights to keep his family together.
> 
> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. None of these events have actually taken place, nor do I ever expect them to. I'm not affiliated with the band in any way and (sadly) I'm not making any money from my glorious creation. So, please don't sue me. I have cats to feed.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When I heard the title for Hanson's new EP, this story just popped into my head. I don't know why, since it has been a couple of years since I last wrote fiction, and that was for a one-off contest. But, nevertheless, the story practically begged to be written. Here, for your approval (or disapproval) is the first chapter.
> 
> Chapter Info:  
> Title: Arrested  
> Genre: Drama, Crime  
> POV: Taylor, Isaac, Zac (in that order)  
> Warnings: If you tell my Mom I used "the 's' word" I will kill you.

 

 

 

 

 

  
  
  I leaned my head against the hard plastic police cruiser seat and let out a deep sigh.

I can’t believe I got caught. The handcuffs were cold on my wrists. My normal urge to fidget was a thousand times stronger knowing that I couldn’t. Even though I’m not particularly tall, my knees pressed up against the back of the driver’s seat. How long is a prison sentence for embezzlement? I tried to remember what I had heard on the news. Ten years? Fifteen? I did the math in my head, I would be in my forties by time I got out.

Then another thought hit. Hard. I can’t believe I actually stole money from my own family. How did I allow myself to get this far into it? A little bit here, a little bit there. I had a family to support. How would I even know if they were okay? Surely we would lose our house. I didn’t expect any help from my family, but maybe they would make sure my wife and kids had a roof over their heads and food to eat. I hoped so, at least. After all, I was the one who stole. I was the one who lied to Natalie.

I would probably lose everything - my house, my car. Not that much of it was actually mine. Everything I owned, from my sprawling 6 bedroom house and the land it was on, to my Land Rover was bought with stolen money. But, it was mine while it lasted. I just wanted to provide for my wife, to make her happy. To buy her things worthy of a rock star’s wife. She put up with a lot, after all. Natalie was the one who took care of the kids while I was on the road for months at at time, following my dream. She dreamed of being a writer, and she did write some things here and there, but between homeschooling our five active kids and always making time for me when I was home, she was never able finish her novel.

“Okay, out with you,” the officer barked as he opened the back door. I slid out as best I could with my hands cuffed together. Once I was standing, he grabbed my left elbow and led me toward a concrete brick building. I felt my heart pound as I looked at it. How long would it be before I saw the outside of the concrete walls again? I felt my legs start to give way.

“Not going to get out of it that easy, son,” the officer jerked me back into a standing position. “This isn’t my first rodeo. Come along and be a man about it. You were man enough to steal from your own family after all.”

“What happened to innocent until proven guilty?” I said more to the steel door we were now facing than to him.

He squinted at me “I’ve been doing this a long time. I know guilty when I see it,” He pressed a button on an intercom outside the door.

“Yes?” I heard a salty female voice.

“Officer 38056. Have one for processing.”

“One moment please,”

I heard the door click open and I was hit by a blast of cold air as we stepped inside.

* * *

“Musician Taylor Hanson has been taken into custody following an investigation into embezzlement of funds from 3CG Records, the label he co-owns with his brothers. The Tulsa based band rose to fame with their smash hit single ‘MMMBop.’ Let’s go to Leslie Case on scene now at the Tulsa County Jail. Leslie?”

“Thanks, Carl. Even though record sales have been slowing, the Hanson brothers still have a very loyal fan base. You can see behind me that a group of fans have already set up camp, some holding signs begging officers to release Taylor. Police are trying to control the scene, but they have told me that they expect more fans set up camp in the next few days . . . “

I turned away from the TV in disgust as the blond reporter blathered on about our unfortunate 90s hairstyles and clothing choices. I was hoping they would say something about my brother, anything to let me know he was okay.

“SHUT UP!” I yelled at the television as I heard the familiar chorus of MMMBop start. I was sure every news channel in the country was playing the same clip of us. I moved my cigar box and hi-ball glasses around trying to find the remote control.

I felt my elbow come in contact with a glass and before I could react, it fell off the coffee table.

“Shit,” I banged my hands on the tabletop as I watched the glass shatter. I shook my head to calm myself. “Get it together,” I said to myself. Soon enough I would be dealing with the entire family, and I knew that with Taylor gone, it was up to me to be the leader. I took a few deep breaths, then slowly walked to the flat screen and turned it off.

My cell phone vibrated in my pocket as soon as the TV screen faded to black. I knew it was coming, but I was dreading it. There was so much business to discuss. My brother had been arrested only a few hours ago and already there was so much to do and so many questions to answer.

“Hi, Mom”

“Isaac,” she was sniffing, “your brother . . . “

“Yes, Mom, I know.”

“You sound so calm. How do you know?”

“It’s been all over the news.” I didn’t mention that I had been drinking for the last few hours or that Taylor’s arrest didn’t surprise me at all.

“I just don’t know what to do. I never thought Taylor would ever . . . He was always so good.”

_That’s what you think._ She didn’t know half of the things he did. He was always so good at not getting caught. He never would have been caught if Zac hadn’t insisted . . .

“Son?” I heard my Dad break-in, “You need to get down to the offices right away. No one knows what’s going on and Zac is fit to be tied.”

“Alright, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Usually I took great care when getting dressed. I just didn’t have the heart for it today. I quickly ran some water over my hair to smooth it back.

“Damn it!” My keys weren’t in their usual place on the dresser. I tossed my bedding around, trying to find them. Finally, I heard something rattle and fall to the floor. I reached under my bed to grab my keys. How they got on my bed, I have no idea. I didn’t even remember going to bed last night, honestly. The day, like the entire week before it, had been too emotional.

I headed for the door, praying that I would arrive at our headquarters safely despite my very worried and slightly intoxicated state of mind.

* * *

 

“HOW COULD HE?” I looked for something else to throw, but my family had been moving things off of Taylor’s desk and out of my way. I walked over to my desk and picked up a Luke Skywalker figurine and aimed it at a picture of Taylor. “Traitor!” I yelled as I heard the glass smash.

“Zac! That is enough!” Dad said. “We have let you indulge your temper tantrum long enough. Come into the conference room and sit down, please.”

“Do not treat me like a child!” I spat back at him.

“Then don’t act like one. Your brother is on his way. We have business to discuss and we need you to put your emotions aside for the time being.”

“Fine,” I stomped into the conference room and slouched in a chair. Mom was already sitting at the table. Her eyes were red and her face was lined with worry. Taylor had always been her favorite, we all knew it even if we never said it out loud.

“Mom, I’m sorry,” I reached across the table to take her hand. “I was just upset, you know?”

She squeezed my hand “Darling, we all are. I can’t believe he would steal from his own brothers. I sometimes wondered how he afforded everything, but I never thought. . . I raised you all better than that.” She shook her head. “Isaac, you look awful,” she said as my brother walked into the room.

“Thanks, Mom,” he pulled out a chair and sat down. He was usually the best dressed out of all of us, but today his hair was a mess and I could smell the alcohol oozing from his pores. He hadn’t shaven and his clothes were wrinkled. He was wearing worn blue jeans and a black t-shirt instead of the suit he normally wore.

“It’s a wonder you made it here alive,” I murmured to him.

“I drove slow and took the back roads,” he leaned his head against the back of the chair and rubbed his temples.

“Coffee.” Black coffee sloshed over the sides of the mug Dad plunked down in front of Isaac.

He walked over to Mom and gingerly sat a cup of coffee on the table in front of her as well, then sat beside her and took her hand. “Guys, we have a serious situation here.”

“I know, Dad. It’s all over the news. Fans are already camped out at the jail,” Isaac said. Mom started to sob. Dad put his arm around her and started rubbing her back.

“I can’t believe Taylor would do that to us. How could he?” I asked again.

“We are all in disbelief, Zac. Taylor will always be your brother, but I seriously think you need to consider if you want to continue to include him in your business.”

“The band is the business, Dad. Are we supposed to just stop everything?” Isaac shook his head.

“Isaac, you need to be reasonable. We don’t even know how long he will be in jail. It could be months before he even goes to trial. Do you think your fans are going to be around several years from now? Even then, he wouldn’t be able to leave the state to tour, much less the country.”

Isaac jumped to his feet “There is a way to work this out. There just has to be. And don’t you dare talk about our fans,” he pointed a finger at our father “the same fans that are camping outside of the jail right now are the same ones that are going to be around whenever we get all this worked out.”

“Isaac . . . “

“What do you want us to do, Dad? Go on without Taylor? Hire a new keyboardist? Taylor is a part of this band and we won’t kick him out just because he made a mistake. Back me up here, Zac.”

“Well, it was a shitty thing to do,” I started.

“Zachary! Language!” Mom said through her tears.

“You can’t tell me you agree with Dad?”

“What’s to stop him from taking the rest of what we have when he comes back?”

“He wouldn’t do that, Zac!”

“How do you know?”

“Because,” he sighed “I just have faith in him, that’s all.”

“Ike.” I was beginning to put the pieces together. “Did you know what he was doing?”

He sat back down and took a long sip of coffee. He licked his lips before he began to speak “Not at first.”

Mom gasped. “Let him talk, Diana,” my Dad said quietly.

“He came to me about a week ago, just a few days after the investigation started. He told me everything - about the money, about how he was having trouble making ends meet even with his side projects. He was still upside down on his mortgage. We were trying to find the right time to tell everyone, but then the investigation was moving too fast. I called the police to request that they drop it, but they said they already had enough evidence to move forward. We thought we would have at least one more day to tell everyone and discuss plans.”

“Isaac, I can’t believe you knew and didn’t tell us,” Dad’s voice was gruff. I could tell he was trying to suppress his anger.

“He was going to pay us back, Dad. I was helping him go through his finances so he could make ends meet and have a little left over to start paying us back.”

“He was just manipulating you, Isaac,” I said “It’s the oldest trick in the book - fess up before you get caught. Get sympathy. Fake remorse. I bet he is only sorry he got caught.”

“It isn’t like that, Zac! Taylor knew exactly how much he had to lose and he was trying to do the right thing.”

“Isaac, I don’t want Taylor anywhere near our business or finances. That’s my final word. If he wants to go out and play pretty boy when he gets out of jail, fine. But I won’t be in a band with a thief and a liar.”

“Zac! Don’t you understand? Taylor is the band! We may not like it, but it’s the truth.”

“What?” I couldn’t believe Isaac actually thought that. “We have just as much talent as he does, Ike. We could each launch our own solo projects from 3CG and sell just as many records. We could even co-headline on a tour together.”

“No, Zac. I don’t want to make music without him. I guess I’ll have to figure out some type of job, but it won’t be music. Not until we are all back together.”

“Well, then I guess you are done with music. I will never, ever be in a band with Taylor again. I don’t even want to be in the same room with him.” I pushed away from the table.

I heard my Dad calling me, but I just couldn’t deal. I slammed the door behind me as I left. I threw my truck into reverse, heedless of the traffic behind me. I last thing I remember before everything went black was the sound of squealing tires.


	2. Pretty Boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV: Zac, Taylor, Isaac (in that order)

 

My world was still black when I felt something warm and wet trickle down my face. I slowly opened my eyes and saw Dad standing outside my truck talking on his cell phone. My head was throbbing, I must have hit it on the steering wheel pretty hard. I tried to remember what happened. The last thing I remembered was leaving our office in my truck. If a car was behind me when I backed out of the space, I certainly didn’t see it. Of course, I was pretty upset about the Taylor situation. The back of my hands were burning. I looked down and saw tiny cuts all over them. Pieces of the passenger side window were scattered all over the cab of my truck. I undid my seatbelt, careful to avoid the shards of glass and slowly opened my door. My legs were unsteady as I stood in the middle of Main Street, trying to figure out exactly what happened.

“You okay, son? That was a pretty bad wreck,” Dad grabbed my arm to steady me. I felt like a child as he lead me over to a bench and helped me sit down. I hoped no one was around to see it. People already have a hard enough time believing “The Hanson Boys” are all grown up. “I called 911. The police are on their way.”

I put my head in my hands, only to pull them away again, wet and sticky from the cut on my forehead. I wiped the blood on my jeans. “What happened?”

“I don’t know the details. I came out as soon as I heard the noise. An SUV crashed into the passenger side of your truck. I can only assume the driver was going too fast to stop when she saw you backing out.”

“Is she okay?”

As soon as the question was out of my mouth, we heard sirens and a moment later two police cars and an ambulance were parked outside of our studio.

A police offer took in the scene as he walked toward us.

“We got a call from a Mr. Hanson about an accident?”

“That’s me,” Dad and I said said at the same time.

“I called in the accident. My son was injured. I think the other driver was, too. My wife is checking on her,” Dad told the cop. He nodded and scribbled down some notes.

I hadn’t noticed my Mom by the red SUV, but now I saw that she was talking to the driver through the broken window. Another police offer was standing beside the SUV and writing in her notepad as she listened to the conversation.

“Sir, do you need assistance?” An EMT walked up behind the police officer with a blue medical bag in his hand.

“No, I’m fine,” I told him.

“Zac, you should have him take a look at the cut on your head,” Dad said.

I rolled my eyes, “Fine.” Why did I suddenly feel like I was a child again? I’m a grown man. What right does he have to tell me what to do?

“I’ve seen worse,” the EMT sat on the bench beside me and put his medical bag in between. “I’m Riley, by the way.” I’ll just clean it a bit first, then we’ll go from there. Sound good?” He was already pulling things out of his bag.

“Fine.” I winced when he started to clean the wound. Whatever he was using smelled like pure alcohol and burned. “Can you hurry?” I mumbled.

“We need to make sure the cut is very clean and that there isn’t any glass in it. Also, a good bit of your hair is matted into it.”

I had been meaning to get a haircut, I just never got around to it. “Okay.”

He must have spent a good ten minutes cleaning the cut. I thought he was making a big deal out of nothing. I suppose he was afraid he would get sued if it got infected. I could just see the headlines “Zac Hanson’s Head Falls Off Due to Infection. Hanson Fans to Bring a Class-Action Lawsuit Against Tulsa County Emergency Response Service.”

“Done with that part,” Riley told me. “I didn’t see any glass. It’s deep, but I think a few butterfly stitches will keep it from bleeding. I’m going to apply some antibiotic cream to it, too. Just keep a bandage over it for a few days to prevent infection.”

“Alright.” In just a few minutes, he was finished. I brushed my hair over the bandage to cover it. The last thing I needed was for some fan to take a picture of me looking injured. From what I gathered, they were already in an uproar about Taylor.

I glanced over at the ambulance just in time to see two more EMTs loading a stretcher into the back. “How is she?”

Riley was putting his supplies back in his bag. “I don’t know. We didn’t get many details about the other driver, just that she was a young female.”

“Can you ask?”

“Privacy laws prevent me from giving out any personal information, but I’ll see what I can do.” He walked over to the ambulance and talked to the other EMTs. He shot me a thumbs up before he jumped in the back. I guess that meant she wasn’t too bad off.

I stood up and went over to my truck to assess the damage. The passenger side door was bent and the side mirror was hanging by a wire. The front tire was flat and there were a few dings on the hood. Glass was all over the cab. I just shook my head. The red SUV’s entire front was crumpled and the windshield shattered. By some miracle, none of the other cars on the street were hit. I was surprised, parking was pretty tight on the street.

“The wrecker will be here in a minute,” my Dad came up behind me. “I think the girl is going to be okay. Your Mom said she was bruised pretty badly, but she was talking the entire time, so that’s a good sign.”

“She must have been going pretty fast. My truck is pretty sturdy.”

“I guess so. Oh, she gave this to your Mom to give to you.” Dad handed me an envelope with my name handwritten across the center.

“She was a fan?”

“Apparently. Why don’t you see what she was in such a rush to tell you?”

I looked at the envelope for a moment then ripped it up. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t want to be ‘Zac Hanson, Former Teen Idol’ anymore.” I stared at our studio, the brick and mortar of the business that I built with my brothers. We had dreams of transforming the music industry when we started it. We thought we would change the world with our Take the Walk mission. The last several years had been nothing but trying to appease our fans who constantly demanded new music and more shows. I was tired of it all. Tired of every single event in my life amounting to nothing more than a headline. Maybe Taylor’s crime had given me just the out I needed.

* * *

 

“Take off your clothes.”

“What?” I asked the processing officer.

“Take off your clothes and put them here,” he handed me a folded garbage bag.

“Well, where do I . . .” I looked around the small room.

“No dressing rooms here, rock star.”

I stripped down to my boxers, then looked at him, hoping I could at least keep those on.

He just stared at me, so I slowly rolled my underwear off, too. I felt uncomfortable and exposed. An image flashed through my head of a time machine and me telling myself not to take the money. That the money wasn’t worth going through this humiliation.

“Fill this,” He handed me a small cup.

“Why?” I asked him.

“All inmates are required to pass a drug screen. You can cooperate with the UA or I can have a nurse come in with a needle for a blood test. Choice is yours.”

I sighed. “And what if I don’t pass? Are you doing to kick me out?”

“You wish you were that lucky. If you don’t pass, you will be moved to a rehab center and your arraignment will be delayed until they determine you are clean.”

“Okay, fine.” When I finished, I handed the cup back to him. He put a top on it with a gloved hand and watched the band at the bottom turn different colors.

“You passed. Put these on,” he handed me a bundle of orange scrubs. They were faded and smelled strongly of bleach.

I put the clothes on as quickly as I could. The material was rough on my skin and the pants stopped just short of my ankles. “Was it really necessary for me to be naked through all of that?”

“No, but you sure are pretty, rock star.” I felt his eyes sweep over me. I had been an object of lust for girls all over the world since I was a teenager, but I had never felt as dirty as I did just then. There was something unholy about the way he looked at me, like he got some sort of perverse pleasure out of causing me humiliation.

“I’m sure my lawyer will be interested to hear that,” I said in a low voice.

“I’m sure the prosecutor will be interested to hear any wrong move you make. They love putting you rich and famous types in your place.”

I decided to ignore his comment. “Do I get shoes?”

“Size?”

“11”

He took a pair of white tennis shoes from a small closet in the room. Once I slipped them on, he opened a door on the far side of the room. “Fingerprints and mug shot next. From what I hear, the press has been clogging the phone lines trying to get a hold of it.”

I followed him through the door. I realized that any misstep would find it’s way to the press. Even though they didn’t pay much attention to our music over the last few years, I had no doubt they would absolutely devour any dirt they could get on me or my brothers. And I had already given them enough headlines for a few days at least.

I was sure he was rougher than necessary while taking my fingerprints. I didn’t say a word as he roughly clenched each of my fingers in his hand and placed it on the scanner. I watched as my fingerprints appeared on the computer monitor.

“Now, you should be good at this next part,” he pointed to a white screen in the back of the room. I assumed that meant I should stand in front of it. “Make sure you smile for the people. This is going to be all over the world in the next few hours.”

Snippets I read on social media months later tagged the resulting picture as “Taylor Hanson’s Bitch Face.”

* * *

 

“Do you have anything we can use, Isaac?” Our lawyer Blake Montgomery asked me as we drove to the county jail. Blake insisted on going to see Taylor as soon as I called him. He said that police are trained to get as much information from prisoners as possible, so he wanted to make sure Taylor didn’t incriminate himself. Blake pulled up to the studio just after Zac’s wreck. I didn’t want to leave, but Dad said he and Mom had everything under control.

“Taylor offered to pay back all the money. Would that help?” I told him.

“Most people think that it does, but to be honest, the prosecutor will likely twist it into an admission of guilt. If Taylor is found guilty, he will be required to pay the money back anyway. Best to leave things as they are for now. Try to think about any hardships,anything that we can use to sway the emotions of the jury to our side.”

“Well, he did tell me that one reason he took the money was for his family. He just wanted them to be happy.”

“Isaac, did he make any type of confession to you?”

“Well, yes. He came and talked to me and then I tried to get the case dropped. But the detectives investigating the case said they already had too much evidence, so they couldn’t drop it.”

“Don’t tell that to anyone. Do you hear me? If the District Attorney finds out, they may require you to testify. I’m not telling you to lie if they come right out and ask you, but don’t volunteer the information. If anyone wants to talk to you, don’t say a word unless I’m there.”

I nodded my understanding. Blake slowed the car as we neared the jail. Fans were camped on both sides of the road. Police officers were standing guard at the gate to keep them from coming inside. Blake stopped just outside and rolled down the window.

“Blake Montgomery, counsel for Taylor Hanson,” he handed his ID to the officer on his side of the car.

“And your passenger?” the officer handed the ID card back to Blake.

“I’m his brother,” I dug my license out of my wallet and handed it over Blake through the open window.

“Okay, you are good to go in.”

“Thanks,” Blake drove slowly through the gate and parked the car. “Are you ready?” he turned to me.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Sometimes seeing family in jail for the first time can be a bit shocking. I just want to make sure you are composed. As much for your sake as for Taylor's.”

“I’m ready.”

A policewoman at the front desk looked up as we entered. “Can I help you?”

“Yes,” Blake said “I’m counsel for Taylor Hanson. This is his brother, Isaac. We would like to talk to Mr. Hanson, please.”

“Usually only counsel is allowed the first 24 hours.” She looked at me.

“I understand. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll step outside and make a call to Judge Harrison to see if he can make an exception.” Blake looked pointedly at the policewoman.

She rolled her eyes and sighed. “You lawyers think you are above the rules. But fine, since he is here, I’ll allow him to go in. I’ll need you both to sign in here. And I’ll need to see some ID.”

Blake quickly filled out the black binder on the counter and handed her our IDs. She placed a check mark by each of our names on the binder.

“Step through here, please.” She indicated a metal detector on the side of the desk.

The detector went off as I stepped through. “Empty your pockets, then step through again.”

I reached in my pockets and deposited my keys, spare change, a cigar cutter and a bottle opener in a tray by the metal detector. This time it didn’t make a sound as I went through.

Blake went through without a problem.

“Wait here,” she pointed at a few cracked plastic chairs by a heavy metal door. Then, she punched in a few numbers in the phone on her desk. “Counsel here for Taylor Hanson.”

The door clicked and the officer ushered us through. “I assume you’ll want a private visiting room?”

“Please,” Blake said to her.

She nodded and started thumbing through a large key ring as we walked down a gray hall. She stopped in front of one of three doors a little way down the hall. She unlocked the door to reveal a small room that was almost entirely taken up by a table and chairs.

“You can wait for him in here. Someone will bring him in a minute.”

“Thank you,” Blake said, then walked into the room.

* * *

 


	3. One Phone Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV: Taylor, Isaac (in that order)

I looked at the worn phone in the small cubical. Bits and pieces of other inmates’ conversations floated through the stifling heat. I wondered how many people had used this phone to deliver bad news to loved ones. Were the scratches on the small shelf underneath the phone created from frustration or boredom? Guards stood watch along the far wall of the long room. A guard cleared his throat at me and held up his hand to signal that I had five minutes left.

My wife wasn’t home when I was arrested. Natalie had taken our kids to special fall break program, “Falling for Jesus,” at church when Tulsa police came to arrest me. I guess they knew she wasn’t involved. I was glad she didn’t see me at the mercy of the Tulsa police. I wonder what my kids think of me now? All I ever wanted was to be their hero.

What was I going to tell her? What does someone say in a situation like this? I closed my eyes and said a silent prayer that God would guide my words. Not that I deserved His help after what I did. What kind of scumbag steals from his own brothers? Never mind that I was trying to keep my marriage together. The extra money seemed to hold it together, but in the end, it was a piss poor patch, only serving to disguise the underlying problems. A small part of me hoped that Natalie would realize that I took the money for us, and would wait for me no matter how long I had to stay in jail. A bigger part of me knew that she deserved better than that and had every right to walk out.

Again, a guard cleared his throat. Three minutes left. Okay. Just like a band-aid, rip it off and get it over with. Just call her. I wiped the sweat from my hands then dialed her cell phone. It rang a few times, then “Hi! You’ve reached Nat! I can’t answer the phone, but leave me a message and I will call you back.”

On the way to the phones, an officer explained to me that I wouldn’t be able to leave a voice mail since Natalie would have to accept the call plus the twenty cents per minute fee before I could talk to her. Even though we hardly ever used it anymore I tried the landline at our house. My worst fear was that one of the kids would pick up, but the phone simply rang until I heard my own voice “You’ve reached Taylor and Natalie Hanson. Please leave a message or try us on our cells. Thanks.”

I had barely put the phone back on the cradle before a guard said “Hanson! Time’s up!” He was right behind me by the time I stood and walked me to the door. “Johnson will take you to your cell.”

I walked in front of the officer down the dim hallway. I was suddenly reminded of walking into venues with rows of fans on each side calling my name, security right behind me. “Hey, pretty boy!” Someone whistled. “Whohooo, we got a celebrity in our midst. Sing for us!” Out of all the mangled, mixed-up versions of MMMBop I had heard in the last seventeen years, the version he and his friends launched into was by far the worst.

 “Wanna sign my boobs?” A three-hundred pound inmate lifted up his shirt and wiggled his hairy chest against the front of his cell.

“That’s enough, Watson!” Johnson called. “Just keep walking. Ignore them,” He said under his breath to me.

I nodded my understanding. I had no intention of starting anything with anyone. I just wanted to be left alone. So much had happened in just the past few hours and I barely had time to process it all.

“Here you are.” Only one of the bunk beds was unoccupied. Threadbare sheets and stained pillow lay at the end. The other occupants looked up when I walked in, but didn’t say a word. One was sleeping, others were reading books or magazines.

“Let me know if you have any trouble. I think these guys will keep to themselves. They just processed out of the state prison and are going home in a day or two. They wouldn’t want to do anything to say in here any longer.” Johnson said the last part louder, as if warning the inmates not to try anything.

I lay down on my bunk and closed my eyes, trying to block out the noises - my cellmates’ breathing, the clank of metal as doors opened and closed, loud conversations drifting in from other cells. Everything seemed like I was moving through a dream world. Any moment, I would wake up and be a home in my bed, Natalie breathing softly beside me. I shut my eyes tighter, willing myself to fall out of this world and wake up in my own.

After only a few minutes of peace, I heard the cell door open again. “Hanson, your lawyer is here.”

* * *

 

Blake warned me it would be a shock, but nothing could prepare me for the way I felt when the guard lead Taylor into the small visiting room. I guess the whole situation just didn’t seem real until that moment. As the guard walked Taylor over the table, I realized I had been holding my breath. I was so very tempted to let my emotions get the best of me. Anger, grief, stress, worry all churned inside of me like a raging tornado. I wanted to punch something, throw something, or just lay down in the middle of the room and throw a temper tantrum. I caught myself looking around the room for a way to help him escape. The small window behind us wasn’t so very high. And I was sure Blake could come up with a plausible story to help his best clients out. We had contacts in every country in the world. We could simply hide out for a while until everything blew over. I briefly had the thought that some of our fans could help us. I shook my head to clear the crazy. I needed to focus on the real and tangible - not some escape plan that would land us both in jail when we got caught.

“Yeah, not my preference of clothing,” Taylor was the first to speak.

“Looks better than some of your fashion choices over the years,” I said, then quickly caught myself. “I’m sorry. We are here to discuss our plans, not tell bad jokes.”

“Right,” Blake cut into the conversation. “I asked Isaac if there was anything we could use. Anything at all that would serve as motive. Sometimes that can sway a jury, if you play to their sympathies enough.”

Taylor sighed “Is this really going to trial? I mean, I’m guilty. I stole the money. I don’t deserve any better than this,” he held up his cuffed hands for emphasis.

“First of all, I don’t want you saying anything like that to anyone until I have a chance to talk to the DA. Keep your mouth shut and your head down. Don’t attract any undue attention. The media is already all over this. That could work to our advantage, though. If we can prove the jury was swayed by media coverage, we can use it to declare a mistrial.”

Taylor nodded as Blake continued “You may not have to go to trial. If you are willing to enter a plea bargain, we might can get you a reduced sentence and save a ton of time in the process. Sometimes these things take years to get through the system.”

“Years?” Taylor and I both spoke at the same time.

“I mean, I figured I might be locked up for years, but I thought as long as I had an end date to look forward to, I might be alright.”

“I will just have to see how this goes. If your fans, and the press, don’t get bored of this soon, we might find that the courts are very willing to move your case to a higher priority. I’m sorry, I know that not knowing is the hardest part, but right now we are in the wait and see part of this. Just take one day at a time. I’ll be in contact with you and Isaac.”

“Thank you, Blake,” Taylor said. Then to me “How is everyone else? Have you heard from Natalie?”

“No one has heard from Natalie. I’ve been meaning to call her and see if she needs anything, but I’ve been busy putting out fires ever since this first broke with the media.” I didn’t say anything to Taylor, but I was sure he would have been able to use the phone by now. Why hadn’t he called his wife?

“Mom is stressed. I can see it in her face. She feels torn between us. Zac is pissed as hell. He got into a wreck outside 3CG right after he stormed out.”

“Is he okay?” Taylor sat up straight and leaned forward.

“He is. Just a few scratches. He was lucky, but his truck got banged up pretty bad.”

“Damn. He loves that truck. What about the other driver?”

“A fan. She was trying to get some sort of message to Zac. They had to take her to the hospital. I haven’t heard any updates on her.”

“And Dad?”

“Business as usual. Just trying to keep everyone together and not pick sides. I think he wants Zac and I to keep making music, but it just won’t be the same without you.”

“You will need a way to make money, though.”

“You know as well as I do that we have enough demos and unreleased tracks to sell boxed sets for years. Plus Zac has his paintings. I can figure out something to do as well.”

A slight smile played across Taylor’s face, “I wonder how much our fans would pay to have you make audio books of their fan fiction?”

I laughed. It was nice to laugh with my brother again. “Oh, I bet they would pay at least $100 per story.”

“Some of those stories are pretty long. Better charge by the hour.”

“How would you know? Wait, Taylor . . . “

“What? I wanted to know what fans could possibly write about us. And Zac does look hot when ‘the sunshine streams through his flowing locks.’”

“Wow.”

“Guys,” Blake looked at his watch, “I know you want to visit, but we still need to discuss Taylor’s arraignment. It is set for day after tomorrow. Since this is a non-violent crime, the judge will set your bond and release you until your next court date.”

“Release? Like I can go home?”

“As long as you put up 10% of your bail, then yes, you can go home until your next court date.”

“Day after tomorrow,” I could tell Taylor savored the words as he said them. I thought it was a little cruel to release someone just to haul them back to jail a few months later. But such is our court system. At this point, it was better for us to just go along than to argue.

“As soon as you are released we can get together and go over all the details. Until then, don’t answer any questions,” Blake told Taylor. “In this case, I hope that they give us a few months until your next date so that we can really work on putting a solid case together.”

“How long is it usually between dates?”

“It just depends on the court’s schedule and how they prioritize it. It could be a few weeks or a few months.”

“Okay.” The expression on Taylor’s face changed. I could tell he was worried about what would happen after the second court date. “How much time does someone usually get for something like this?”

Blake looked at Taylor for a moment. “Do you want worse case scenario?”

I could tell that Taylor took a few minutes to brace himself. “Yes,” he looked Blake straight in the eyes.

“In Oklahoma, the max penalty is a $5,000 fine plus restitution and up to five years in prison.”

“Five years?” Taylor sat back in his chair and ran his hands through his hair. “Honestly, that’s less than I thought. And I was planning to pay back the money anyway. So there is still some chance for me to pull my life back together?” Taylor looked at me.

“Taylor,” without even thinking about it, I reached for his hand, then remembered that Blake was in the room and pulled back. To my surprise, Taylor took hold of my hand and gripped, hard. “Right now, we survive one day at at time. I know you want a plan, but there are too many unknowns.”

He closed his eyes “Okay. But five years is still a long time. I worry about what will happen to Natalie. And to the band?”

“Taylor, I don’t know. You know that neither one of us has ever been able to control Zac. He is too headstrong. But I can assure that I will do everything I can to make sure Natalie and your kids are taken care of. I will drop by on my way home tonight. Have you had a chance to call her?”

I thought I saw tears form in my brother’s eyes. “I called a few minutes ago. There wasn’t an answer. I think I will be able to make another phone call tomorrow. I’ll try her then.”

I wanted to say something to him, offer some big-brotherly words of comfort, but Blake was already standing up to go. I squeezed my brother’s hand. “We will get through this.”

He looked into my eyes “I believe you.”


	4. Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV: Isaac, Zac, Taylor (in that order)  
> Warnings: Starting to get into bit of innuendo. I'm a good girl, though. So stick with me. It won't get too much worse than a Lifetime movie.

 

 

For the first time since this mess started, I felt like myself as I put on a  suit and slicked my hair back. I tried to tell myself that I was just going to take care of some 3CG business, but I knew that Taylor’s arraignment meant so much more than that. The very future of our band depended on what happened with Taylor and, from conversations with Blake, I knew we wouldn't even get all the answers today. I hoped Zac would show up. More than that, I hoped Zac would show up and keep his emotions in check. I reminded myself that he was a professional and was more than able to put on a happy face for the cameras, even if everything was falling apart behind the scenes.

We had tiffs within the band, but this was probably the worse thing that could have happened. I couldn't even pour myself into my music like I usually did - it just wasn't the same without Taylor. My Dad and I had  effectively shut down the business side of the studio until further notice. We were trying to give our current employees enough work fielding phone calls from the press (”no comment at this time”) and organizing paperwork until we had more information. But, with no money coming in, I didn't know how long that would last.

I picked up my keys from the catch-all-tray and made my way into my makeshift office. I stepped over the guitars that needed restringing and notebooks full of songs that might never be finished to the far wall. I gingerly lifted the signed Les Paul 58’ from the wall and set it gently on the carpet. I counted out $10,000 from my safe - surely Taylor’s bail wouldn’t be more than $100,000. One more day and I would have been able to deposit my emergency stash into our account and call off the whole investigation. Then, Taylor could have just paid me back when he got his finances in order.

Once I made sure my safe was securely locked, I settled my Les Paul back in front of it. I put the money in the first bag I found - a black carry on that was stained inside and still smelled of shaving cream from where a can had burst during an international flight. I checked the time and saw that I would have plenty of time to run by the bank to deposit the money in my personal checking account before I went to the courthouse. I dialed Zac’s number as I made my way out to my car.

* * *

 

“Zac, he’s your brother. He needs our support,” Isaac reasoned with me.  “It’s the one thing we always agreed on, Zac. Family is more important than the band.  Always.”

“I know, Ike.”

When I didn’t answer, Isaac continued “You know that Taylor was trying to provide for his family.”

“WE ARE HIS FAMILY, TOO! None of us told him to haul off and get some cheerleader pregnant.”

“ZACHARY! Natalie has been part of this family for ten years. I know you didn't really mean that.”

I sighed “You’re right. Has anyone heard from her?”

I could almost hear the wheels turning in my brother’s mind in the silence that followed. Finally he said “I drove by Taylor’s house to check on her and the kids. The lights were out and the garage door was down.”

“Damn. That’s going to kill Taylor.”

“I know. One of many reasons why he is going to need our support, Zac.”

“There is one thing I can’t figure out.  If he needed the money, why didn't he just ask us?”

“I don’t know, Zac. Pride, male bravado. He thought he would be able to pay us back. Look, the arraignment is in two hours, I still have some things to take care of before I head to the courthouse. Just remember who had your back in ‘05 outside that club in LA.”

The call cut off as my mind went back to a dirty alley in downtown Los Angeles. The club was filled with A-list celebrities, we had only gotten in because the party was for some Disney princess pop star or other who claimed she was obsessed with the band when she was eleven. We had to smile for the cameras and take pictures with her. I still remember feeling nothing but bones under her thin slip dress when I put my arm around her waste. At some point during the night, after enduring her horrendous cover of MMMBop, someone either slipped something in my drink or I picked up the wrong one by mistake. I felt like I was floating on clouds for a few hours before the room started spinning. Taylor knew exactly what was going on and led me out a back way into an alley just in time for me to lose my stomach behind some trash cans.

“Here, sit down,” he told me, helping me sit on the dirty concrete. I was too sick to argue.

“Ugh,” was all I could say. Then I looked up suddenly, remembering the paparazzi that had been outside the club when we arrived at the party.

“Ike’s on lookout,” Taylor told me.

I only nodded, “Thanks, Tay.” The next thing I remember, I was back in my hotel room and my cell phone alarm was going off. When I reached over to turn it off, I saw a bottle of aspirin, a Gatorade and a note with the day’s schedule written in Taylor’s chunky handwriting. I tried to explain to him on several occasions that I hadn't took anything on purpose, but he never asked questions, never judged me.

“I’m just glad we were there to have your back,” he explained the last time I brought it up. “And I believe you. If you say something was slipped in your drink, then something was slipped in your drink.”

I sighed. I guess I at least owed him a few hours. I shuffled through the clothes on my floor, trying to figure out what was least dirty. Then, I thought better of myself. I looked through the few things actually hanging in my closet. The suit I usually only wore to church was still in the dry cleaner’s bag. I laid it on my unmade bed. My room was even more of a  mess by time I found a decent dress shirt, tie and black shoes. I didn't own any dress shoes, so my black tennis shoes would just have to do. No one would pay attention to my feet, right?

I glanced at the clock. I still had just enough time for a quick shower before I needed to leave for the courthouse. “Shit,” I said halfway through my shower. It suddenly occurred to me that my truck was still in the shop. “Taylor’s causing more trouble than he’s worth right now,” I said to my shampoo bottle. As soon as I was relatively dry, I dialed Ike’s number. Hopefully he would still have time to swing by and pick me up.

“Hello, you've reached Isaac Hanson. Please leave a message and I'll be sure to return your call as soon as possible,” I ended the call without leaving a message. At times like these, I missed the days of landline phones that I could slam down to get the aggression out. I’d probably crack the screen on my iPhone if I tried that.

“Okay, plan B,” I said as I dialed the number for the car service we usually used to get back and forth to the airport. Since I was a frequent customer, it only took a few minutes for me to request a ride. The car service was only 10 minutes out, so I quickly put on my suit and ran my fingers through my hair, sweeping some of the longer pieces over my forehead to cover the red scar from the wreck.

I glanced in the mirror. “Good enough,” I said, shoving my keys and wallet into my pockets. I stepped outside just as the black SUV pulled to the curb.

“Courthouse?” the driver asked me as I slid inside.

“Yes, how did you . . . “

“Oh, it’s all over the news and every DJ on every radio station has been making comments about your brother’s court appearance today. I hear the courthouse is just overrun with 30-something women in Hanson t-shirts begging to be let in.”

I guess I looked shocked, because he continued “Apparently your lawyer was one step ahead of them. He requested a closed courtroom. Only people on the list are allowed in.”

“Thank goodness for that. I swear to God if anyone asks for my autograph or picture today . . . “ I trailed off. What would I really do? Slap one of our fans and get myself put in jail? Tell them off only to be labeled a jerk in the forums on our own website? Of course not. I would politely decline as I made my way inside the courthouse. Ever since I was eleven, I had been trained to put my emotions aside - to take every inconvenience with a smile. I was supposed to tell obsessed fans how much I appreciated their passion, when every atom inside my brain wanted to scream at them to just leave me the hell alone for a minute.  I lived for the times when just the three of us were alone in the studio together. I could vent, or throw something or punch a wall and I knew my brothers understood, because they were dealing with the same things.  None of my girlfriends ever understood the immense amount of pressure I was under. I guess that’s why all of my relationships crashed and burned. But now, maybe I could forget all of that. Maybe I could just be me once in a while. Maybe I could finally give a relationship the time it needed. Maybe I could even take a real vacation and see more of a city than backstage and airports. Maybe by Taylor going to jail, I would be released from my own life sentence of drummer for my big brothers’ band.

* * *

 

“Hanson, court day,” the other inmates cheered as the guard opened the cell door. “Hold out your hands.” He secured handcuffs around my wrist and then led me out of the cell by my elbow.

I didn't look up or even flinch as prisoners from other cells threw rude remarks at me as we walked by. . It was just like being heckled at a show.  Just a rude person who has to put others down to make himself feel better. It wasn't worth the time it took to worry about it.

The guard led me to the same room I was processed in a few days before. “Okay, here are the rules. Walk where we tell you to walk, stop where we tell you stop. You’re going to ride over in a van, several of you have court dates today. You’ll be kept in a holding room until it’s time for your arraignment. When it’s done, you’ll go back into the holding room.”

“I thought there was a chance I could be bailed out.”

“The judge will make that determination. Either way, you still have to stay in the holding room until the paperwork is done. And if it isn't done by the time we leave at 5, you’ll have to come back here until you are bailed out. ”

“I understand,” I said, although I couldn't stand the thought of staying that place for one more night. I was used to a life with minimal privacy, but I still wasn't prepared for sharing a small cell with 3 guys I didn't know and having to do all of my business out in the open.  I still hadn’t been able to talk to Natalie,  and I was anxious to speak to her in person. I could only imagine the hell this must be putting her through. What did she say to our kids about all of this?

He unlocked the handcuffs and said “Someone dropped off a suit for you to wear. We've already searched the pockets,” he handed me a black suit on a hanger.  It was the same one I wore for photo shoots for our last album. Isaac must have brought it from the studio. At any rate, it was  better than the jeans and old t-shirt I was wearing when I first got arrested. I looked at him for a moment, hoping that he would direct me to someplace to change. They searched me when I came in, what could I possibly have to hide?

“Be quick about it, I've got about two more to load on the van after you,” he told me. I changed as quickly as I could, pretending not to notice that he stared at me the whole time, looking me up and down.  I started a dialog in my head, telling myself that he was just doing his job, it was nothing personal, even though it all felt extremely personal.

When I was done, he put the handcuffs back on and led me outside. I squinted in the bright sunlight. The fresh air felt good on my skin, and I reveled in it the entire 30 seconds it took for him to open the door of the transport van and usher me inside. Once I was seated, he fasted a seat belt around my waist. Was it just my nerves, or did he take longer than necessary to pull the strap tight? I felt his hand brush against the inside of my thigh. Was that an accident? I tried to catch his eye, but he had already turned away and was heading back inside the precinct. I rested my head against the back of the seat and stared out the window, trying to focus my mind on Natalie and going home.  I barely even noticed when guards brought the other inmates to the van. My daydreams were interrupted when I heard the door slam shut, but by time the van pulled out onto the street, my thoughts were once again focused only on home.


	5. A Day in Court

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV: Isaac, Zac, Taylor (in that order)

“Taylor Hanson’s court date . . .”

 

“Famous Tulsa native Taylor Hanson faces charges . . .”

“A judge could possibly let Taylor Hanson . . .”

I flicked through the radio stations trying to find one that wasn't using my brother’s court date as the interesting news tidbit for the day. Finally, I switched over to my CD player. Billy Joel’s “River of Dreams” started playing and I relaxed a bit as I listened to the familiar music. As soon as I came into view of the courthouse, I regretted driving my own car. The Tulsa County Municipal Courthouse was surrounded by our fans. I felt like I was pulling into a venue in a city we hadn't visited in years. I saw a variety of Hanson t-shirts and signs that read “Free Taylor Hanson.” Was I mistaken, or did I spot a Brazilian flag in the crowd? I knew that our devoted fan base was the only reason we hadn't had to get day jobs by now. Although I knew the back ways into most Tulsa venues and bars, the courthouse wasn't somewhere I frequented. The last time I was here was to sign my divorce paperwork. Fortunately, we were able to keep things out of the press until everything was final, so there were no fans around then. It wasn't a day after the paperwork was signed that my online account was filled with PMs from fans trying to convince me to marry them. “I’ll treat you better than she ever did,” and “I’ll be supportive of your music,” they promised. I wondered how well they would handle things during the second month of tour - when I had been away from home a bit too long and emotions were rubbed raw. My ex-wife fell for our children’s pediatrician when I was on the other side of the world promoting an album. She said she needed someone she could count on to be home every night and someone that would be in the same town to help her when emergencies came up. I tried to explain she had my family to lean on. Like us, though, the rest of the Hanson family tended to stay busy eight days a week and could be hard to get in touch with.

I slowed my car to a crawl navigate through the crowd. “Ike!” I heard someone scream. Thankfully I was wearing my sunglasses, because I wasn't able to stop a reflexive eye roll. I glanced in my rear view mirror. They were following me. Damn, I needed Tay. He could distract the girls while I made a run for it. He was good at snapping a few pictures and then disappearing. He always seemed to know how to duck in and out of places, and he walked incredibly fast.

I honestly didn't know what to do. As soon as I stopped my car, the herd of fans would just surround it for pictures or to talk or for whatever other reason they had for mobbing us seventeen years after our biggest hit. Not to mention the difficulty of trying to look for a parking place and escape route while I avoided hitting someone with my car.

“Okay,” I thought out loud, “how would Taylor handle this? Damn him! Shit!” A girl screamed as I slammed on my breaks to avoid hitting her. Why the hell did she run in front of my car? She held up a sign “We love you, Ike!” Another girl walked up beside her “Free Taylor!” She had drawn blue teardrops over a magazine cutout of Taylor’s face.

How are grown women even acting like this? Holy shit. I decided to just stay parked where I was. With all the girls around, I couldn't even tell where a designated parking space should be. I made sure my doors were locked, then looked around trying to figure out the best way to make it through the crowd to the doors. I didn't have much time, it was already 15 minutes until 10, and I knew I would have to go through security at the courthouse and find the room for Taylor’s arraignment.

Just as I was about to call security at the courthouse and ask if someone could try to clear the parking lot, I saw a black car pull to the front of the courthouse. I saw Zac’s hair just above of the top of the car. A huge space around my car suddenly cleared as they rushed for Zac .I took advantage of their distraction and jumped out of my car. I ran as fast as I could toward the car, weaving my way in and out of the crowd. I heard a few gasps and saw camera flashes all around me. I felt someone tug on my sleeve, but I yanked it away, losing a button in the process. The crowd was thinner near the front of the car, so I headed toward the hood and skirted around it. They were already surrounding Zac, and he did not look like he was in the mood for PR.

“Zac!” I called, my deep voice standing out from the shrieks of our fans. As soon as I knew I had his attention, I grabbed his hand and pulled him inside the courthouse.

* * *

 

I jumped when I heard Isaac’s voice, and a few choice words ran through my head. Why would the idiot call attention to himself? I have to admit, though, I was relived when I felt him pull me into the courthouse. One more second out there and I would no longer be known as “The nice one.” I was in no mood to appease crazy bitches today. I wanted to get this shit over with as soon as possible and go back to my apartment. Damn them. Why couldn't they just spend money on us then leave us alone? I mean, did we not have the right to conduct family business in private? It wasn't like they were waiting for a show or something. Our fucking brother was in fucking jail.

“ZAC!” Isaac was trying to get my attention.

“What?”

“They need to see your ID.”

I showed the security guard at the desk my ID. “Thank you sir,” he said. “Step through here, please.”

I went through the metal detector, which started flashing and buzzing as soon as I went through.

“Do you have keys your pocket?”

“Yeah,” I reached in and put my keys in a metal tray attached to the side of the machine and walked through again. This time, it was silent, but the sides lit up with green.

Isaac put his keys in the tray and walked through. He got the green light as well.

“So, where is it?” I asked, staring at the myriad of hallways and doors.

“I’m not sure. Let me ask Blake,” he pulled his phone from his pocket and sent a text. Less than a minute later, he said “Room 7B. Should be on this floor.”

I looked around. “Oh, here’s a map. We are in room 34D.”

“Are you sure? I would think the main room would be 1A.”

“Well, professor, I can read a map as well as you can.”

“Okay, okay,” Isaac said, holding up his hands. I knew I was trying my best to start a fight. I just really didn’t give a shit right now.

“Ummmm,” I held my finger just a few millimeters above the glass, tracing the hallways. “Looks like left, right, then left again.”

“But that’s a circle.”

“I know. 7B is almost directly behind us, but the door is on the other side.”

“We only have about 8 minutes until it starts,”

“Well, I guess we’ll have to hustle, then,” I turned and started down hallway J, which lead off of hallway D, which would eventually lead to hallway B. According to the directions, anyway. “I’m surprised there aren't more people in here,” I said to Isaac.

“Blake requested a closed arraignment. Only people that were on the list at the door could even get past security.”

“Thank goodness for that. I just don’t want pictures of this shit floating all around the internet, you know?”

“I know. Once we get this all over with, I don’t even want to think about it again.”

“You know that may not be for years, right?” I looked over at my brother as we walked. I wondered if he was deluding himself about how much trouble Taylor was in. From what I gathered, he might spend years in prison even after all the court stuff was over.

“I know, but one day it will be over. And then I just want to forget it ever happened.”

“He could face the consequences for years, though. Probation, fines, he’ll have to figure out some way to make money.”

“We’ll still have the band.”

“Ike, we talked about this,” I reminded him. We rounded a corner. Hallway C was supposed to branch off from Hallway J into Hallway B.

“And we’ll talk about it again until you realize that I’m not giving up on the band that easily, Zac.”

I shook my head. “Whatever. Hallway B. Thank goodness.”

“Four minutes,” Isaac said as he held the door open for me. Our family filled 2 benches. There was an open spot on the end of both. Isaac sat on the bench closest to the front, by our Dad. I sat down right behind him, and put my arm around our younger sister, who looked up at me with red eyes and a tear-stained face.

I wondered if Taylor even knew the half of what he was putting us through.

* * *

 

The police officer slid open the van door. “Okay, gentlemen, this is how it’s going to work. We are going to lead you into the holding room one by one. Handcuffs stay on all day. You go into the courtroom when we tell you and come back to the holding room after. Judge Harrison doesn't put up with any funny business and will charge you with contempt of court in a hot second.”

No one said anything in reply, so he and another guard climbed into the van. I didn't see anyone else outside, but it looked like we were in an area behind the courthouse. I bobbed my leg as I waited my turn. I was the last one left when the guard from the prison walked over to me and smiled a sickening smile that made my arms break out in goosebumps. “Okay, Johnson,” he called to his partner “You go on in and keep and eye on the other inmates. I’m sure I can handle Hanson all by myself.”

“Yes, sir!” Johnson said and turned immediately on his heel and walked inside the courthouse.

“Well, you sure have caused quite a stir in this town,” he said, running his hands over mine in the pretense of checking to make sure my handcuffs were still secure.

I didn't reply, I simply stared out the window. He put his hand under the seat belt and kept it there. I couldn't stop my body from reacting and I felt myself go hard against his hand. Still, I didn't say anything or even turn to look at him.

“Are you a shy one, rock star? Or are you just being coy with me?”

I slowly turned my head to look at him. “I’d like to be at my arraignment on time,” I said to him in a even tone.

“Don’t you know you are supposed to answer when an officer of the law asks you a question?”

“Actually, I’m well aware of my right not to answer your questions. And I’m sure you’re breaking a few laws right now, officer.” I looked him right in the eyes. My strength of mind was the only thing I had control over at the moment. Between the handcuffs and seatbelt, I was powerless to physically defend myself.

He finally moved his hand away and loosened the seat belt. He slipped his arm under my elbow and tugged on my arm until I stood. We made our way out of the van. I was more used to the sunlight now, I couldn't help but think that it would only be a little while longer until I was out in it again. I had grown tired of dark, dingy hallways my first day in. It was only a few more steps to the inside of the holding room, which was simply a wide hallway with wooden, backless benches on either side. All of the other inmates were already seated. The officer guided me to to bench on the far side of the hallway and I sat down. I’m sure he sat me further away from everyone else on purpose, but I didn't mind. It was surprisingly quite in the room, I guess everyone else was just trying to get their thoughts together, awaiting their turn just like I was.

I had a staring contest with the back of my hand for the next few hours. I knew from the few necessary court proceedings we had with our business the docket was almost always running behind. My hands tingled with the urge to fidget, but my movement was limited in the handcuffs. Finally, the court bailiff opened the door into the holding room and called “Hanson.”

“No funny business, now rock star,” the officer mumbled as he unlocked my handcuffs. “You follow the bailiff right into the courtroom and stand where he tells you.”

“Okay,” I said, rubbing my hands on my wrists where the handcuffs had been. The bailiff motioned me through and I stayed on my best behavior, following him into the courtroom. I couldn't help but look back at the gallery as I walked, and I saw my family on two benches. I found my brothers sitting on separate rows. Zac was trying to hide it, but I could tell he was pissed. I knew I deserved every bit of it and more, but still a tiny part of me hoped most of his anger was directed at the delay in the proceedings rather than at me. I looked from Zac to Isaac and we locked eyes. He nodded at me, letting me know that he at least was here to support me. As long as I had that, I would be okay. It didn't matter if the rest of the family had only shown up to watch the train wreck. I knew that my older brother always had my back, even when he had every reason in the world not too. I didn't see Natalie but I reasoned that she didn't want to bring our children up here to watch all of this, and all of her usual babysitters were here. I couldn't wait to go home, to explain things to her myself, to apologize and make a plan for how to get through the next few years.

“Sit here,” the bailiff motioned me behind a table. Blake was already seated, with two neat stacks of paper in front of him. It was strange to think that those papers held the key to my future.So this was it. After years of struggling against the red tape of the record industry, my life was once again dependent on paperwork.

“Ready?” he asked me as I sat.

“Do I really have a choice?”

“Good point,” he said.

Blake had barely gotten the words out before the bailiff issued the command “All rise. The Honorable Judge Winifred Harrison presiding!”

We stood as the judge entered the courtroom. To be honest, I was expecting a 60 year old man, but the lady that walked into the courtroom couldn't have been much past her forties. “Be seated,” she said in a calm but authoritative voice. The room was silent while the judge read over the paperwork in front of her. I tried to be still, but I couldn't keep my legs from shaking. After a few minutes, she looked over at me.

“You have gotten yourself into some trouble, young man. It’s a shame, you and your brothers did a lot of good for this town,” she sighed and sat back in her chair. She put her two index fingers together under her chin, like she was thinking long and hard about something. “This is just the first step in what I’m sure your attorney has told you will be a long process. The only reason I mention that to you is that my office phone lines haven’t stopped ringing since the public docket was published online. Many people want to know the outcome of your case, Mr. Hanson. Unfortunately for them, I’m not at liberty to discuss such matters. If you are wise, you will request to keep all proceedings from here on out private.”

I nodded, unsure if was allowed to speak or not. Her advice seemed more like an order, but one I was more than willing to follow.

“Mr. Hanson, you have the right to hear your charges and rights read to you. You may also choose to waive these rights. I have provided your attorney with a copy of your charges and rights. Do you wish to waive the right to hear your charges read?”

I was unsure what to say. I hadn't discussed this with Blake. I looked over at him. He gave a slight nod of his head.

“Yes, your honor,” I replied, hoping that the terminology I heard from TV scripts were correct. Usually Blake just did all the talking in court.

“In that case, I’m required by law to give you adequate time to look over the information provided before you enter a plea. I’ll set the next court date for two months from today, October 15th at 9:00 AM. You will be required to appear before me and enter a plea. Do you understand?”

“Yes, your honor,” I said again.

“Mr. Leopold, do you have any recommendations for bail?” she turned to face the the table across the aisle from us. The lawyer I assumed to be Mr. Leopold stood.

“I recommend bail be set at $500,000, your honor,” I heard a few gasps from the gallery. Probably my family. No matter how much people thought we made, we hadn't made that much between us in years. My brothers were still living off the interest on investments from the Middle of Nowhere days. Mine was gone - poured into creating an illusion of a perfect home and family.

I closed my eyes. Ten percent of that was $50,000. Even if my family could come up with that between them, I didn’t deserve it. Isaac or Zac could live off $50,000 for a year with money to spare. I wanted to go home so badly, but it looked like I would be going back to prison instead.

“Mr. Montgomery, do you agree with the prosecution’s suggestion?”

“No, your honor,” Blake replied “As the family’s attorney, I have personal knowledge of their finances. Any bail amount over $25,000 would put undue hardship on Mr. Hanson and his family.”

“Be that as it may, I find both numbers a bit out of proportion to the crime. I’ll give you both a chance to adjust your suggestions,” Judge Harrison said, looking from one lawyer to the other. It was strange to see others arguing over my fate when I had been so used to controlling everything.

“No less than $250,000 your honor” Mr. Leopold said.

“No more than $50,000 your honor” Blake said.

“I’ll take both of your suggestions into consideration. Since this was a non-violent crime, I see no reason in setting bail so high as to create a hardship. But embezzlement is a serious crime. With those considerations in mind, I’ll set a bail of $100,000. Bailiff, please remand the defendant into custody until bail is posted,” she said.

The bailiff was at my side in a matter of seconds, guiding me back to the holding room. He led me back to my bench, where I sat going over everything in my mind. I had no idea if anyone was going to bail me out, but I was pretty sure that Isaac would bail me out if he could. Wouldn't he? I once again found myself staring at the back of my hands while I waited on others to decide what to do with me.

 

 


	6. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> POV: Zac, Isaac, Taylor (in that order)

“Isaac, do not bail Taylor out. Just leave him in. Maybe it will do him some good,” I reasoned. Isaac was staring at a wall-mounted courthouse map, trying to decipher where to post bail for Taylor. 

“Actually Zac, I am going to bail him out. I haven’t been able to sleep at night knowing that our brother is in jail. On a practical level it will be much easier to meet with Blake and discuss plans. We also need to sit down and discuss where we are going to take the business from here.”

“I don’t want to be a part of the business anymore. I told you, I’m not doing business with Taylor again. I just want to be done with the whole thing.”

“I know you don’t mean that. You’ve been in the band since you were six.”

“Exactly, Isaac! I really didn’t have much of a choice about it then, did I? Well, it is time to make my own choices. And I’m choosing not to have any sort of a business relationship with Taylor.”

Isaac closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. “That may be so, but I’m still going to bail Taylor out. I have a responsibility to him as his older . . .”  


“Responsibility?” Zac cut me off “What about his responsibility to us? Even Mom and Dad think you should leave him in. Let him learn a lesson. It will do him some good.”

“While I respect our parents’ opinion, I think they are wrong on this,” Isaac traced a finger over the courthouse map and turned down a hallway. I tagged along, hoping I could change his mind.

“I don’t think they are. How do you know that Taylor won’t do the same thing again as soon as he gets out?”

“I don’t know for certain that he won’t, Zac. But after all we’ve been through together I think he at least deserves a chance. He’d do the same for you, and you know it.”

“I would never steal.” I saw pain flash in my brother’s eyes. Was he remembering a certain girl from ten years back? I knew that she was dating Isaac, but she was so pretty, and so persuasive when she told me that Isaac would never find out.

“Maybe not money,” Isaac mumbled, walking faster. He almost bumped into a wall as he turned sharp corner. 

“You have a point, but Taylor risked our entire livelihood. How can we expect people to do business with us now? Our usual vendors and partners have been calling to put things on hold. Our business is crumbling, Isaac. Maybe we should let it.”

“I’m not ready to give up on it, Zac,” Isaac came to a dead stop and turned to face me. “You and Taylor have other talents. The band is all I have. Who would come to see a solo show featuring Isaac Hanson? I’m ‘the ugly one,’ remember?”

“Isaac, you are smart and talented. You’ll find something else. Sometimes the wiser thing to do is realize when it’s time to let go.”

“Look Zac, I don’t have much time before they take Taylor back to the prison. You can either help me find the court clerk’s office or you can just leave.”

“I’ll leave then. But don’t try to plan any family reunions. Consider me done.”

“Zac . . .” I heard Isaac call, but I didn’t stop. I dialed the car company as I made my way through the maze of hallways. I couldn’t wait to get back to my own apartment and not think about any of this for a while. I knew I would eventually have to deal with the fallout, but not now. Not today.

* * *

 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Hanson, cash or credit only,” the clerk pointed to the sign and handed my check back. She had the local news playing on the TV behind her, so I had no need to explain who I was or who I was trying to bail out. 

“What? Who carries around that much cash?”

“We aren't asking you to carry it around. Just go to the bank and bring it back here. We had too many checks bounce, so we don’t accept them anymore.”

“I could probably put it on my credit cards if I could spread the amount between them. I don’t think I have any with quite that high a limit.”

“I’m sorry, but one transaction only.”

“Wow.” I was dreading making my way back through that crowd again, twice. How the hell would I ever get Taylor through it? “Okay, fine. I’ll be back.”

“We’ll be here,” the clerk said to my back as I strode away.  


I stopped just past security in the foyer of the courthouse and looked out the window. “Damn,” the crowd had gotten bigger throughout the morning. I hoped they would have cleared out, but I should have known that was too much to ask. Our fans were much too devoted to just leave well enough alone, although I really wish this one time they would. For just a second, a thought flashed through my head - maybe Zac was right. I dismissed it just as quickly. My brothers had many other talents. I only had the band. I had enough saved up to last maybe a few years, but then what? I felt a bit nauseous at the thought of a solo music career. No, Zac would just have to suck it up so the band and the music could continue. I usually gave into my brothers’ ideas eventually, but I was determined this time. I needed the band and it was going to stay together if it took every bit of resolve I could muster.  


I took a page out of Zac’s book and called for our car service. I stayed inside the courthouse until the black SUV pulled to the curb. I opened the courthouse door to a packed venue level of screams. I blocked it out as I quickly stepped inside the car and locked the door.

“Uh oh,” the driver said, glancing in his rear view mirror.

“What?” I asked, looking behind me, expecting to see a tidal wave of Fansons closing in on the car.

“Your brother isn’t with you. Things must not have gone so well today.”

“Things haven’t been going well since this whole mess started. I’m going to bail him out, I just need to make a run to the bank first then come back here to bail him out before they haul him back to prison.”

“Gottcha. Okay, which bank do you use?”

“First United Trust.”

The driver typed the name into his GPS. “Looks like the closest one is just a few blocks away on 2nd street. Will that be okay for you?”

“Works for me”

“Alright, boss,” it took at least 10 minutes to make it through the crowd and out of the parking lot. We were at the bank in a matter of a few minutes.

“Can you wait for me?”

“Sure thing,” he punched a few things into a tablet, switching the charge rate from mileage to time.

Thankfully, there were only a few people in line ahead of me and the line moved quickly. Still, I was in the bank longer than I expected. Two tellers and a manager had to approve my withdrawal, especially since I just deposited the cash from my emergency stash this morning. The bank employees handed me a blue zippered pouch containing the cash, which I quickly tucked into my suit. No sense inviting trouble, although the bulge was still obvious.

I looked at my watch. We only had about 30 minutes before they would take Taylor back to prison. I didn’t want him to spend another night in that place. “All done. Back to the courthouse, please,” I told the driver. He nodded and minimized his game of Candy Crush. His fare app came back up on the tablet and the numbers on the meter started to increase again.

“Can you wait for me again, please?” I asked the driver as we approached the front of the courthouse. “I just think it would be easier than trying to get through the crowd with Taylor.”

“You’re the man with the cash,” he replied.

I walked as fast as I could back through the courtroom hallways to the clerk’s office. The lady at the desk was beginning to pack up her things.

“I have the cash,” I told her, putting the cash on her desk. She counted it, then started to dial numbers on her desk telephone.

“Excuse me,” I said.

She raised her eyebrows at me and held up a finger, “Officer Johnson? Are the inmates still here? We have a last minute bailout,” She paused, listening to the reply. “I see. Thank you very much.” Then to me, she said “I’m sorry, but the prisoners have been loaded into the van. You will just have to wait until tomorrow and bail him out from the prison.” She gathered the cash and held it out to me. I refused to take it.

“Look, lady, the only reason I wasn’t here earlier was because of your stupid policies. If they are loading the van, that means my brother is still here. So you just call back Office Whoever and tell him to get him off the van. I’m taking him home tonight.”

“Sir, once the van is loaded, it is policy that . . . “

“I need to speak to your manger, please.”

“I’m the supervisor in this department, actually.”

“Who is your boss, m’am? Someone signs your paycheck.”

“The governor does, actually,” she said.

“Oh, perfect. I’ll just step out and call him.”

“Because helping out a local celebrity accused of embezzlement will look great on his record,” she countered.

“I have ten thousand dollars worth of cash. I’m going to give it to you and then I’m taking my brother home.” Our staring standoff lasted about 3 minutes before she picked up her phone again.

“Officer Johnson, Taylor Hanson just made bail. Please escort him to my office. Thank you.”

“Thank you,” I said. I leaned against the wall and crossed my arms while I waited.

* * *

 

I guess Isaac decided to leave me in prison after all. Zac probably talked him into it. He looked pretty pissed today.   
  
I closed my eyes and waited for the van to take me back to the prison. Two more months before I could even enter a plea. Two more months in small cell with three other smelly guys and uncomfortable bunks. It was a tour bus that never reached its destination - my own personal hell. I hated to be trapped. I craved freedom. I needed my own space.

“Hanson? You just made bail,” Officer Johnson was putting the last prisoners in the back of the van as he spoke to me.

Relief swept over me. Isaac came through after all. I never should have doubted my older brother. He had always been there for me, for us. Watching over us, making sure we didn’t screw up things too badly. Damn, I loved him. Johnson took his time unbuckling my seatbelt and undoing my handcuffs.

“One wrong move and you will be right back here, do you understand?” He said, leading me by my elbow back into the courthouse.

“I understand you more than you think,” I replied.

“What?”

“Nothing. I understand.” I wanted to walk faster, to run ahead of Johnson to find my brother, but I forced myself to stay calm. We would have plenty of time to talk. But first, Natalie. I needed to get to Natalie, to explain, to tell her how sorry I was and to explain that I did all this for us. Isaac could come with me, he would help, he would be my moral support.

I couldn’t control the tears that started falling when I saw Isaac. I embraced my brother like it had been years instead of two days since I last spoke to him.

“I have a car waiting outside,” He whispered in my ear. “Do I even have to ask if you’re ready to go?”

I shook my head. We walked out of the courthouse together. “FYI, fan alert,” Isaac told me once we were past the security desk.

“I thought as much,” I replied. We were well practiced in getting through crowds of people to a waiting car. 

“Where to?” the driver asked once we were inside the car with the doors locked.

“Home,” I said. “I want to go home.” I gave the driver my home address and he pulled out of the parking lot, careful to avoid the crowd. I saw a sea of cell phones and knew that pictures of Isaac and me leaving the courthouse would be all over Instagram in a matter of hours.

The twenty minute ride from downtown Tulsa to my house seemed to take years. All I thought about was Natalie. I wanted to see her and I wanted to see my kids so we could start to make this right.

My house was the only one the narrow, tree-lined street. In fact, I owned all the land around it. The peace and quiet was a welcome escape from touring and obsessive fans. Thank goodness none of them knew where we lived. I turned around suddenly.

“What’s wrong?” Isaac asked, throwing me a worried glance.

“Nothing. Just wanted to make sure we weren’t followed.”

“Oh yeah, good call. I didn’t even think about that. We usually only have to worry about that type of stuff during Hanson day.”

“We wouldn’t get any peace if fans found out where we lived.”

“True.”

“Isaac?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you come in with me? You know, help me explain to Natalie that all I ever wanted was to make a good life for us? I wanted her to be happy, and proud of me.”

Isaac put his hand on my shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Of course I will.”

“Need me to wait this time?” The driver asked Isaac.

“No, Taylor can take me home. Thank you, though.”

“Okay, just sign here and we will put your total on your account,” he passed his tablet and a stylus back to Isaac.

Natalie must have went to run errands, I thought. No lights shinned through the windows and the garage door was down.

After Isaac signed, he said to me “Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” I looked at the dark house.   
  
Errands. I hope.

“Come on, then,” he said, in a voice so quiet I barely heard him. He must have been thinking the same thing I was.

“My keys are at the prison, along with my wallet. They took it all from me the day I was arrested.”

“We’ll go by and get them tomorrow,” Isaac unlocked the front door with his spare key.

All the shades were down, and from the smell of things the kitchen garbage hadn’t been taken out since before I went to prison. I turned on the lights in every room. The spaces that were usually strewn with toys were clean - even the kids’ rooms were neat and tidy. That combination only happened when company was coming or we were leaving for a trip.

I walked into the master bedroom last. The bed was made and the light caught a glint of something gold on the bed. Natalie’s rings lay on top of an envelope addressed to me. I knew what it would say before I read it.

_Taylor,_

_You were my hero. I looked up to you as the kind of person I always aspired to be - hard working with a strong passion for helping others. You are so good with people - your fans, your coworkers, your children. You have a way of making everyone want to please you. But you broke my heart. I would have been glad to live in a leaky trailer if it meant we could be together. We can’t be together now, I’m sorry. I have our children to think of and I can’t put my life on hold for years while your case gets dragged through court and the media._

_I love you and I probably always will. I know you, so I know that the only reason you stole the money was for us. I wondered how we could afford such nice things when your brothers couldn’t. I let myself be naive, and I let myself trust you. It was a mistake. I never thought you would risk your career over something as fleeting as money. It’s hard to see a hero fall, but I hope you will be able to pick yourself back up._

_I’ll contact you when I’m ready. Until then, please don’t try to call or try to find me. The kids send their love._

_Natalie._

I felt Isaac catch me as my knees buckled beneath me.

“Sit down,” he said, helping me to the edge of the bed. Isaac put his arm around me to steady me. The tears that had built up since the day I was arrested started falling. Isaac rubbed by back as I cried - for Natalie and for my own stupidity.

“We’ll figure it out,” Isaac assured me. I had no words, so I simply nodded. I slipped Natalie’s ring on my smallest finger. I would keep it for her. Once day, once I got my life back together, she would come back. I fell asleep on Isaac’s lap knowing that he would help me through all of the immediate legal problems, and then he would help me get Natalie back.

 

 


	7. When You're Gone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV: Taylor, Isaac (In that order.)

I woke up alone in my own bed for the first time in years. At first, I thought I must have been in some hotel room, and racked my brain trying to remember which city.  I heard birds chirping and wind stirring in the trees outside. I usually had to strain to hear anything going on outside the house and I wondered where my kids were. On Natalie’s side of the bed, the sheets were still smooth.

“Idiot,” I muttered to myself. I remembered the last few days and exactly why I was waking up alone in a quiet house.  The daylight outside told me I had slept through the night. It was probably the most sleep at once I had gotten in over a decade.

I stretched and looked around the room. Isaac was asleep in Natalie’s reading chair by our picture window. His  white dress shirt was unbuttoned to the third button and wrinkled. I could just make out the top of the thin gold cross necklace Isaac wore under his shirt. It had been a gift from Mom Christmas ‘97. Isaac was the only one of us who still wore his. I wore a wooden rosary my children made me and Zac hadn’t worn a cross or attended church in years. He had given up on God after one too many failed relationships.

I tried to slide out of bed quietly, but the springs squeaked when I stood. Isaac shifted a little, but didn’t wake. I opened my closet door as quietly as I could and pulled out jeans and a clean white undershirt and went into the bathroom to change.

I left my suit in bundle on the floor. Getting dressed in private felt like a luxury after having every inch of my body scrutinized by prison guards. I wandered around the back of my house for a while, checking everything just to make sure that Natalie hadn’t changed her mind and come back.  The kids’ rooms were still neat and tidy, although they were missing quite a few toys. I guessed she planned to stay for a while.  I lifted the blinds in the nursery - no children playing outside either. I shook my head. Everything I did was for my family, and now they were gone. Somehow I would figure out a way to get them back, though. I just had to.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Isaac’s voice startled me.

I felt hot tears spring to my eyes, “I was her hero, you know.”

“Who’s?”

“Penny’s.”

“Oh, Tay, I’m so sorry,” he put his hand on my shoulder, “I didn’t even think about it.” Isaac lead me over to the rocking chair by the crib. It had barely been without a baby since Nat and I married.

“How will I ever sing Penny’s song again? Or ‘Georgia’? What am I going to do, Ike?”

“We are going to figure it out, that’s what. We have an appointment with Blake tomorrow,” Isaac told me.

“When you say ‘we’ . . .”

“Just you and me for now.”

“So the rest of the family . . . “

“They are upset. They are going to meet us at 3CG tomorrow afternoon for us to go over Blake’s plan and to try and decide what to do with the business.”

Isaac’s eyes didn’t leave mine when he promised “I will be right there with you. I support you. The family will come around, I think they are more shocked than upset.”

“Is Zac still angry?”

“Yes. You know he takes a long time to get over things. I think he is trying to use this as an excuse to leave the band.”

I nodded. I had been picking up on the signs for a while. Zac blamed the band for keeping him from having a family of his own. Zac was so happy when he was around my kids. And I don’t think he ever got over Mary leaving him for Isaac. Mary left Isaac after only a few years of being a band wife. She couldn’t handle the lifestyle. I think Zac thought in the back of his mind he would have been able to keep her happy. She was the perfect calm for Zac’s sugar fits, but it took a toll on her. She seemed much happier with Isaac. Even though Ike tended to wear his heart on his sleeve, he was much more emotionally stable than Zac, and provided a strong shoulder she could lean on. The problem was his shoulder wasn’t in Tulsa nearly enough.

“So, now what?” I asked my older brother. Usually, I like to be the boss, but right now I needed someone else to make the decisions.

“That is up to you. If you want me to stay, I’ll stay. If you would rather be alone, I’ll go.”

“I don’t think I could be alone in this house. Everything would just remind me of her. And them.”

“Ok. I’ll stay.”

I hated to ask, Isaac had already done so much for me, but I still found myself asking “Can we go over to your house? All I thought about while I was in prison coming home. But without Natalie and my kids, this isn’t home.”

“Of course we can. Just let me know when you are ready.”

“It should only take a few minutes for me to throw some clean clothes into my tour bag.”

* * *

 

“You can drive,” Taylor tossed the keys to his silver Range Rover to me.

Taylor made a sound somewhere between a gasp and a sob when we walked out into his garage. Even in the dark, he could see the empty space where Natalie parked her SUV. I guess seeing her car gone made her leaving real. I put my hand on Taylor’s back and pushed/helped him to the passenger side of his car.

I kept an eye on Taylor as much as I could while navigating the familiar Tulsa streets. He didn’t say a word, and even though he looked out the window the entire time, I’m not sure he actually saw anything. I remember how I felt when Mary left me - I was sad, but I had the band and my family to lean on. Taylor only had me. Taylor needed me, and for the hundredth time over the last few days, I resolved to be the shoulder he needed.

When I got married, I moved to the outskirts of town so my wife and the children we hoped to have could have privacy. My ex-wife got the house in the divorce settlement, so I found a nice house in town. I picked it specifically for the location - my favorite bar was in walking distance. I  turned the formal dining room into a mini bar and kept it well stocked for nights I didn’t feel like going out. Taylor still lived outside of Tulsa, so it took about 30 minutes in the morning traffic for us to get to my house. I parked the car in the driveway. Taylor still seemed lost in his thoughts, so I waited a few minutes. He didn’t seem anxious to move, so I tried to rouse him from his thoughts.

“Tay,” I whispered.

“Huh?”

“Are you going to get out?”

“Oh. Yeah.” He moved like the weight of the world was on his shoulders when he unfastened his seatbelt and slowly walked to the back of his car to get his bag.

“What have you been smoking?” Taylor wrinkled his nose when he walked inside my house.

“Just a few cigars Will gave me to try.”

“Your house smells like an ashtray.”

“So you think you are better than me cause you quit smoking?”

“Of course not. I quit smoking because it was too much money.”

“My cigar box is on top of the mini bar. Help yourself.”

“I’d like to help myself to the mini bar, to be honest.”

“Help yourself to that, too. I’m going to take a shower. You do whatever you want. You might be able to find something to eat in the fridge. Do you remember where the guest room is?”

“Yeah. Come to think of it, a shower sounds great.”

“Ok. Make yourself at home. Let me know if you need anything.”

Taylor nodded and turned left to go to the guest room. Even though I had intended the room for family and friends to say when they came to town, Taylor was my first guest. As much as my heart hurt for Taylor, I had to admit it felt good to be needed.

I could still hear the water running in the guest bathroom after I showered.I only took a minute or two to slip on a pair of jeans and first clean t-shirt I could find. I couldn’t help but notice the black festival t-shirt I wore felt a bit tight around my chest and arms. I was going to have to ease up on the late night bar food. I ran a comb through my hair but skipped the gel.

I put my cell phone in my pocket and made my way to the mini bar. The stopper on the whiskey decanter was a bit lose. Taylor must have gotten a drink before he took a shower. I poured a whiskey on the rocks for myself. I decided to see what was on TV while I waited for Taylor.

“Our TMZ cameras caught ex-pop star Taylor Hanson’s wife crying in the Atlanta airport. Will he soon be back on the market?” A picture of a brunette woman halfway hidden behind a plastic potted plant flashed on screen. It could have been Natalie, but then again it could have been a staged look alike. The picture was far to blurry to tell. I couldn’t even tell if the few children surrounding her were my own nieces and nephews. The picture only showed the back of their heads.

“I’m a jackass.”

“Tay . . .” I turned off the TV and turned to face him. He sat on the couch next to me.

“I never meant to hurt her, Ike. Everything I did was for her,” Taylor drummed his fingers on the armrest.

“I know that. She knows that. Just give her some time to be with her fami. . . “

“I AM HER FAMILY!”

“Tay,” I put my arm on his shoulder “She needs to be away from Tulsa for a while. Hopefully your arrest is already old news in Atlanta. Besides that, her car was gone. She probably drove to Atlanta, I’m sure that picture wasn’t even of her.”

“I guess you are right. I just miss her so much,” he put his head in his hands. “I want this all to go away,” he mumbled through his fingers.

“A very smart man once told me ‘The only way out of this is to keep moving forward.’ We got through the Underneath years. We will get through this.”

“But we had everyone’s support back then. I was a newlywed.”

“You have my support now. I know I’m not Natalie, or even Dad, but all I have to give is yours.”

“Now that just sounds sappy. And completely stolen from our lyrics,” Taylor gave me a half smile.

“It’s not stealing if I wrote it.”

Taylor nodded. “I could do with another whiskey.”

“I could do with some food to wash it down with.”

“I think you got the expression backwards, genius.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m still hungry. What are we going to eat?”

“I don’t care. I don’t even feel like eating.”

“Still, you need to eat something. Especially if you are going to drink that much,” I eyed the highball glass Taylor was bringing back into the living room. Amber drops of liquor made a trail to the living room as whiskey sloshed over the sides of the glass.

“You drink,” he countered. I winced a little as Taylor set the full glass down hard on my mahogany coffee table.

“Yes, but unless that’s going to be your last drink for the month, you need something in your stomach.”

“Fine,” Taylor drained half the glass in one gulp.

“We can get pizza or Chinese delivered. Preference?”

“Does anything not greasy deliver?”

“Umm, that one deli I think.”

“Okay. I could probably eat some pasta.”

“Pasta it is then. I’ll call it in.”

I came back into the living room once I had placed the order. I brought a few sodas from the fridge,  hoping that Taylor would temper the liquor with soft drinks. He had turned the TV back on. Thankfully, TMZ was off. Taylor stared at two couples on _Cops_ arguing in front of a trailer.

“The sad part is, that’s what folks turn into when they don’t have money,” he took a soda off the coffee table without looking away from the TV.

“We make more money than that, Taylor. We make enough to take care of our needs and a few wants.”

“I just wanted Natalie to be happy. She had all these ideas about the life she should have as a rockstar’s wife.”

“They say women marry situations. Mary did. But if Natalie only wanted to be married to you for the social status, she was missing some of the best things about you. You are a good father even if you couldn’t afford to send 5 kids to private school.”

“You sound like Dr. Phil.”

“And? You screwed up Tay. I won’t deny that. But that doesn’t negate the over ten years you were a good father and husband.”

“And some of those years I stole money from my own brothers.”

“To provide for your kids and wife. Money or lack of doesn’t make a good father. You were there for them when they needed to talk, even if they had to call you. You were present when you were in town. You took them along with all of your activities and showed them how to make a difference in the world. All of that means so very much more than money to children. And now you have an opportunity to show them that is isn’t the end of the world when someone makes a mistake. When you get back on your feet after this, you will show them that when they make mistakes, even big mistakes, they can come back from it if they just keep trying.”

“Wow, Ike.”

“What?”

“When did you turn into me?”

“I suppose your optimism had to rub off eventually.”

“Too bad it didn’t rub off on Zac.”

“We have been going non-stop for a while. Maybe he just needs a break.”

“I guess I’ll have to take that for now.” Taylor pushed the volume on the TV up to the max and turned away from me. I barely heard the doorbell ring over the noise. I brought the take-out bags to the living room and spread the containers out on the coffee table.

“Thanks, man,” Taylor barley took his eyes away from the TV. I knew that “Paradise: The Trailer Park,” didn’t interest him in the least, but I didn’t want to push him to talk before he felt like it, either. I settled myself on the couch and decided that if reality TV and overpriced pasta made Taylor feel better, then I wouldn’t say a word about it.

My headache must have woke me up. I felt around for my phone in the dim light, thinking that it was twilight. My phone, however informed me that I had slept through the night. Also that I had 10 missed calls and 30 unread texts. I looked around for Taylor. He was fast asleep with his arm draped over the side of the couch and his head resting on his arm.

I managed to put on a pot of coffee despite my throbbing head. The empty liquor bottles I had to push aside to get to the coffee maker told me all I needed to know about what caused my massive headache and blurry vision.

I scrolled through my phone to make sure I hadn’t slept through an emergency, although heaven knew I needed the sleep. All the texts were about the business and the ten phone calls were all from Mom.

I called her while the coffee was brewing.

“Mom, what’s wrong?” I asked her as soon as she answered.

“I don’t know where Taylor is,” she sounded on the verge of tears once again.

“It’s okay, Mom. He is at my house.”

“I was just so worried. I passed by his house last night and decided to just check on him since I was in the area.” A tiny smile crept onto my face at hearing this. Taylor lived so far out of town that no one ever ‘just passed by.’ Mom would have had to make a decided effort to stop by his house.

“I’m sorry you were worried. He didn’t want to be alone at his house and to be honest, I didn’t want him to be alone.”

“You are a good big brother, Isaac. I don’t think I told you that enough.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I just asked “Is everyone still going to be at 3CG this afternoon?”

“Your Dad and I will be. I don’t know about Zac. I think your sisters are still too upset to talk business.” my mom said.

“Alright, we will just make do with whoever shows. Taylor and I need to get ready for our meeting. I’ll see you later.”

“Ok. Isaac?”

“Yes?”

“I love you. Tell Taylor I love him, too,” she said in a whisper, almost like she didn’t want to be overheard.

“I will, Mom. I love you, too.”

I poured two mugs of coffee and walked back into the living room. Taylor was sitting up on the couch looking dazed. I sat his cup on coffee table. He immediately picked it up.

“You make good coffee. Strong,” he said more to his coffee mug than to me.

“We are going to need it today.”

“Why?”

“We have a meeting with Blake, remember?”

“Oh. Yeah.”

“Hey, maybe it will be good news,” I put my hand on his shoulder. “Speaking of good news, I have some.”

“Thank God. What?”

“Mom went by your house last night to check on you. She wanted me to tell you she loves you.”

Taylor smiled and just for a moment I thought I could see a bit of the old Taylor in his eyes. “I love her too,” he all but whispered.

“We only have about an hour before our meeting with Blake. What do you say we get ready and go so we can get this over with?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Taylor didn’t speak much on the way to Blake’s office. I could tell he was bracing himself for the worst. And what could I say? I didn’t want to give him false assurances only to have Blake undo it all. I don’t know what I would do if Taylor lost his trust in me. Even worse, I didn’t know what Taylor would do.

Blake’s downtown office had windows all around showing the familiar Tulsa streets that held so many memories. Seeing bands play and wanting to do the same. Our first official performance as a band at Mayfest.  Filming videos and holding events for our fan club. Looking out over these same streets as we planned our Take the Walk movement. It was so hard to have so much out of our control. Especially since we always wanted to know our options and the best way forward.

Blake got right to the point. His desk calender showed that he had an appointment directly after ours.

“Okay, guys, here is the deal. The prosecution is offering a plea deal - if Taylor pleads guilty, they will knock the charges down - 6 months served, no parole. There are  additional 5 years suspended provided he pays all the money he took back to 3CG plus a 10% fine paid to the government within 2 years. If he fails to pay the money back, he would have to serve the full 5 years in prison. During the term of his suspended sentence, he could only leave the state with permission from his parole officer.

“How would I make money? I don’t know how to do anything else but make music, and no one buys music anymore. I make my money from touring,” Taylor leaned back in his chair and almost hit me with his hands he was talking so fast.

“You could still tour. You would just have to get special permission to leave the state. And of course there is even more red tape to deal with if you wanted to leave the country, but if you proved that you had a show, they would let you go.”

“So we are supposed to sell tickets to a show I’m not even sure I can get permission to go to? Not to mention our drummer has one foot out the door. They want me to pay a fine, but then limit my main source of income. Makes sense.” Taylor put his hands down hard on Blake’s desk. Blake raised his eyebrows, but didn’t say anything. I guess he knew where to send the bill if Taylor damaged anything.

“Yes, it is a bit inconvenient, but not as inconvenient  as being in prison for 10 years. If you don’t take this deal, the prosecution will push for the max sentence.”

Taylor looked at me. I knew he wanted my advice before he even asked for it.

“If you accept the deal, then at least we know exactly what we are getting into. We have some control,” I told him.

“What if I can’t pay back the money?”

“Then at least you will have two years to try, and you still only spend half the max sentence in prison,” Blake answered.

“But if I fight it, I might not get any time. Right?”

“True,” Blake started “And I will help you if that’s what you decide. But the prosecution has enough evidence to convict you. You’d basically be praying for a sympathetic jury. And you can be sure the prosecution will rule out anyone who so much as thought about buying one of your records.”

  
“I don’t want to spend 6 months in prison. Or five years.”

“Would you rather go through a year or more of court cases and then spend ten years in prison?” Blake asked my brother.

“I guess not,” Taylor sighed. “So if I sign the deal today would I go to prison right now?” Taylor looked around as if he expected a cop to step out from behind a filing cabinet and arrest him.

“No. Once you sign it, I still have to bring it before the judge to get his approval. And I’m sure since you were cooperative during your first arrest the judge will allow you to self-report. Usually the court will give you about a month to get your affairs in order before you report to prison.”

“I don’t suppose they could postpone it until after the holidays?”

Blake glanced at his calender. “That might be pushing it.”

“What if we celebrate Christmas before you go with the family?” I suggested  “And then you will be out before Hanson Day. Maybe if we think up some really good merch, we could knock a good bit off your fine.”

“You and Zac would have to do most of the planning. And Zac isn’t exactly on board.”

“We can handle the planning. And maybe if we explain things to Zac, he will come around.”

Taylor looked at Blake “Ok. Where do I sign?”


	8. Love Song

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV: Zac, Isaac, Taylor (in that order)

_Mary was a young girl_

_With a young girl’s heart_

_All I can remember_

_Is I loved her from the start_

 

 

“Hello?”

I felt every muscle in my body relax as her sweet voice washed over me.

“Mary? It’s Zac,” I said.

“Oh. Hi Zac. I heard about Taylor. I’m sorry. I hope everything works out for him.”

“Yeah. Listen, Mary, I need to talk to you about something. I’m leaving the band and I wondered if . . .”

“Mary? Who are you talking to?” A deep voice in the background said.

“Just an old friend, I’ll be there in a minute, sweetheart,” her voice drifted away from the phone. “I’m sorry, what were you saying, Zac?”

“Oh,” I wasn’t expecting this. I guess she deserved to find someone else. “Oh, nothing. I just wondered if you might want to get together sometime, but it sounds like you are busy.”

“Things are a bit hectic. Jake and I are expecting our first child. But it was nice to hear from you. And I really do hope the best for Taylor. The media has been throwing him under the bus, but I know you and Isaac are supporting him. You always did care about the band more than anything else.”

Her last words stung. “It was nice to talk to you, too. Congratulations.” I hung up. My plans for the day revolved around her - planning our date once she said yes and cleaning up my apartment in case we decided to come back here after.

“What’s the point, now?” I asked to my empty bedroom. My words got lost in the piles of dirty laundry on the floor. I was so jazzed up about the call I had taken my first shower since Taylor’s court date. Now all I wanted to do was crawl back in bed. We were supposed to have some family meeting at 3CG to get more details on Blake’s plan for how to proceed with Taylor’s case, but my bed seemed more appealing.

I rattled the bottle of sleeping pills - just a few left. Normally, I would only use them for a severe case of jet lag, but lately they were the only thing that made my brain stop hating Taylor enough to go to sleep. I had four in my hand and was about to wash them down with Mountain Dew, but a knock on my door startled me.

“Mom?” she looked like she had been crying. “What’s wrong?” I put my arm around her and led her inside.

“Zachary . . .” She started. “Your place looks like a pig stye.”

“Sorry. I haven’t gotten around to cleaning it yet.”

“And what have you been doing to occupy your time? You certainly haven’t been helping at the studio.”

My mind drifted to the bottle of pills beside my bed. “Stuff.” I answered.

“Stuff? Well it had better not be any illegal stuff. Isaac and Taylor are on their way to the studio. We dropped by to offer you a ride since your truck is still in the shop.”

“I’m not going.”

“Don’t you want to at least come and hear your brother out?”

“No. Now if you don’t mind, I have stuff to do.”

She nodded. “Would you like me to call you after and give you an update?”

“If you must,” I broke eye contact.

“Okay,” she made to leave, but then came over toward me and gave me a hug. “I love you. And so do your brothers. Taylor could really use your support right now. Your father has even come around now that he has had time to let everything sink in.”

I was still turned away from her, but I sighed. Mom guilt trip win number eleven thousand. “Fine. Let’s go.”

“Good. I’m glad you see our side of things. And you had better be on your best behavior,” she reached up and brushed my hair down over my forehead to cover the scar from the wreck. It was a still visible reminder of the trouble my temper caused.

I ran my hand across the scar. “Hey Mom?”

“Yes?”

“What ever happened to that girl?”

She looked a little confused for a moment, then said “Oh, yes. She broke some ribs and was pretty bruised up,  but she went home yesterday. She talked her parents out of suing, so you had better be thankful.”

“Wow. Do we know her address? Can we send her a card or something?”

“Already done. Zoe is getting pretty good at faking your signature.”

“What would I do without you, Mom?” I grabbed my jacket and we went down to where my father and youngest sister were waiting in the small Ford he had traded the mini-van in for.

* * *

 

“No.” Zac pushed his chair back away from the table and crossed his arms. “I’m done. This band ran my whole life, now I’m done with it.”

Taylor looked down at the table - he knew as well as I did that any hope for him paying back the money depended on the band staying together.

“Two more years, that’s all we are asking, Zac.”

“I’ll be thirty by then, Ike! Do you know how much I can accomplish in two years?”

“I’m already over thirty. You aren’t as over the hill as you think you are. You will still have time for your art just like you always have. But we need you.” I made eye contact and held it until he finally looked away. He didn’t reply or make any move to come closer to the table.

“Ike, it’s fine,” Taylor said to the conference table. “I’ll just figure out another way,” he looked up and I could see tears pooling in his eyes. “Okay,” he sniffed “What do we need to do to disband the business?”

Taylor looked to our dad for this information. He helped us start the business, and now it looked like he was going to help us end it.

“Are you all sure that’s what you want?” Dad asked. “This isn’t something you can change your mind about later.”

None of us said anything. I knew for sure it wasn’t what I wanted.

“Okay. I’ll start getting information together for what we have to do. Zac, since you are the one most in favor of this, you can break the news to the staff.”

“What news?” He asked.

“You understand if the business disbands, all of your employees will lose their jobs. Don’t forget you have family on the payroll.”

“Oh,” Zac looked down at his hands. “I guess I didn’t think about that. You know I never got into the business side of things very much.”

“You can give them a time line of about two months. Not everyone will be needed for the entire two months, but of course they can apply for unemployment benefits once their job ends here.”

“Two months?” Zac looked around the room. Now tears were forming in his eyes. “Ten years to build a business and it can all be undone in two months?”

“It’s much easier to tear down than to build up,” my Dad said.

“Can we . . . Can we keep the business and not be a band anymore? We could produce and things, right?”

“You could. You won’t take in as much money, at least for a while, but who knows? You might find that you like being cooped up in the office for 12 hours a day much better than touring.”

Zac closed his eyes and took a deep breath. I knew he was trying not to explode. I also knew that he knew Dad was using reverse psychology on him, and that he probably felt like he was being treated like a child.

“I’m just tired of the band. I’m tired of never being home and not being able to have a life. Maybe I will like producing better.”

“I have an idea,” Taylor said, his voice thick with unshed tears.

“What?” Zac asked.

“What if we make this Hanson Day the last Hanson concert? We can promote it that way and get more fans than usual, I’m sure. Then, we can take a break for two years - I won’t be able to leave the state without permission anyway. We can produce and work on side projects.”

“What if you can’t pay off your fine?” Isaac asked.

“Then I’ll go to jail for five years and we won’t have to worry about the band. If I do pay off the fine and we decide to go back on tour, it certainly won’t be the first time a band has come out of retirement.”

“That sounds like it just might work, actually.” I said.

“I’m still not fond of the thought of you going to prison, Taylor.” Mom spoke up for the first time.

Taylor reached over and took her hand, “I’m not fond of it either, Mom. I don’t want to go back there for six seconds, let alone six months. But those are the consequences of my actions and I’m willing to face them.”

Dad patted his shoulder “Good. So we have a plan of action now? Plan Hanson Day and take a break for two years?”

We all nodded. “I’ll call a conference with the staff and let them know the plan.”

“You aren’t going to fire anyone, are you?” Zac asked.

“As long as you three can pull in decent money producing, I don’t see why I would have to.”

Taylor looked around our makeshift conference room. “Okay,” he said. “Project Band Breakup it is,” and he left the room without another word.

* * *

 

“I’m sure Zac will change his mind before the two years are up,” Isaac said. My older brother hadn’t stopped talking about the band since we left 3CG.

“Isaac!” I shouted.

“What? Oh!” He slammed on the breaks, but the front of the car was still sticking out under the red light. “Sorry.”

“Can we just not talk about band stuff? Please? Especially if you can’t talk about it and drive at the same time.” I leaned my seat back and closed my eyes. Maybe I would wake up and this would all be some horrible dream. My wife would be home and I would still have the band.

“Oh. Okay. Whatever you want, Tay.” I could hear the hurt in my brother’s voice, but I couldn’t bring myself to open my eyes and look at him.

“Ike, I’m sorry. I know you really wanted to keep the band together. I did, too. But, what is the point of keeping the band together if Zac’s heart isn’t really in it? We would lose the one thing that made us survive all these years on one hit single. Our passion for music.”

“I just feel like so much is still up in the air and I can’t do a damn thing to control any of it. And I honestly don’t know what I would do without the band. Music is the only talent I have, and even then I’m not nearly as good as you or Zac.”

“That’s not true, Isaac. You have a fantastic voice. And you know way more about the technical side of production than either Zac or me.”

“I suppose I need to look into how to get started - if we need additional equipment and how much we should charge. And then there is the matter of getting the word out to bands that we are going to be producers now.”

“Mayfest.” I answered.

“What?”

“Mayfest. They always have local bands. We should get some flyers ready to distribute before Mayfest and leave them in backstage areas.”

I heard Isaac snap his fingers “ I have an idea! What if we could somehow contact the organizers and offer a discount to Mayfest bands. That way they could have CDs or MP3s ready to sell at the festival.”

“That’s a great idea!”

“Zac and I could even go to South by Southwest this year and distribute flyers and see what progress we can make there.”

“While I’m in prison,” I added. It still seemed surreal - I would be spending the holidays and my birthday in prison.

“I don’t like to think of you in prison. But you are strong, Tay. I know you’ll be okay. And I’ll come visit and send you everything you need.”

“The one thing I need more than anything right now you can’t send me.”

“Natalie will come around, Taylor. Maybe we can figure out someway to let her know what’s going on.”

“She asked me not to contact her. I think I should respect that.”

“Maybe she ran to see if you care enough to chase her.”

“I don’t want to run after her especially since the kids are with her. I don’t want to drag them into it if it turns into some big argument.”

“I understand that. I also trust that you know more about your wife than I do.”

“What I really want is for her to come back on her own, when she is ready without her feeling like I’m pressuring her,” I explained.

We pulled into Isaac’s driveway. “Well, what do you want to do today?” he asked.

“I don’t really feel like doing much of anything, to be honest. Can we just chill today? I wouldn’t mind a bit more of your whiskey, either.”

“Sure. I might run to the grocery store a little later on if you will be okay by yourself for an hour or so.”

“That’s fine.”

“Is there anything you want me to pick up for you?”

“No.”

“Tay.”

“What?”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really. I just need some time to wrap my head around everything. I’ll be fine. I just keep trying to think about what 6 months in prison will be like, and I just absolutely can’t. You know I hate being cooped up. Being on the tour bus about drives me crazy.”

“I wish I could go in your place.”

“Isaac,” I put my hand on his shoulder an drew him into a hug. “You don’t have to take the fall for me anymore. I’m grown and I’ll face the consequences of my actions.”

“If I could though, just one more time. The truth is the band and our company needs you more than they do me. You are the planner and you know all our staff sees you as the boss. Guitar players are a dime a dozen.”

“The band was your idea, and your voice fits perfectly with ours. Maybe we could get another guitar player, but you are my only big brother and I need you.” I raised my head to look into his eyes.

“You do?” I could see tears forming in his eyes.

“Of course I do. I know ‘I love you’ isn’t the manly thing to say, but I do. I could always rely on you to listen when I needed it and to be goofy when I needed cheering up.”

“All I ever wanted was to feel like I belong. Sometimes I feel like the spare tire of the band, so you don’t know how much it means to me to hear you say that. I love you, too, Tay.”

“I’ve always known you have.”

I cleared my throat with a grunt. “Now, about about that whiskey?”

 


	9. At Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV: Taylor, Isaac, Zac (in that order)

"How about Trans-Siberian Orchestra?" Isaac asked, holding up his iPod so I could see.

"Whatever. I'm not really in a Christmas mood. Light's green," I said.

"Oh. Thanks," he put the music player in the center console and eased through the intersection. "We don't have to listen to anything."

"I just feel so weird doing Christmas a month and a half early. And without my kids."

"I know. But I think having something to plan for helped Mom get her mind off things."

"Yeah. She's a natural caretaker and even Zoe will be out of the house in a few years," I said.

"Does their house feel strange to you?"

 "Yes. It is so . . . small. All the memories are gone." Since only Zoe still lived at home, our parents sold our childhood home and moved into a smaller house. We were headed there to celebrate Christmas before I started my prison sentence.

I received a letter about a week after the judge agreed to the plea bargain informing me that I was to self-report to a minimum security prison two and half hours south of Tulsa. Jim E Hamilton Correctional Facility looked a bit like a camp from the brochure enclosed with the letter. I would also be required to attend "Thinking for Change" classes weekly during my stay. If I wasn't so damned nervous about being cooped up for six months, I might have laughed at the ridiculousness of it all.  One day rolled into the next as I slowly gave Isaac access to my bank accounts and online bill pay accounts to make sure nothing went into default. My prison sentence started in two days.

"Do you agree?" Isaac asked me.

"What? I'm sorry."

"I just asked if you agreed that the less the media knows about all of this the better until we make the official announcement to our fans." Our mother might be dealing with all of this by planning a family Christmas party, but Isaac had thrown himself into transforming our business from a record label to a production studio. Mostly Isaac had just been along for the ride since the band started, but now he was really taking initiative. He spent long hours on the phone with our music industry contacts trying to get the ball rolling and he already had a long list of potential artists to contact. We still hadn't told our fans anymore than they were able to learn from TMZ and other gossip news sites.

"Oh, yes. I think if we want to avoid another courthouse scene, we should just wait until the day after I go in. I've started a draft of an apology letter that we can post on the blog. That might ease the sting somewhat and keep most of them on our side."

"I don't really think you have to worry about our fans going anywhere."

"I didn't think I would have to worry about Natalie going anywhere, either." I still hadn't heard a word from her.

"Just give her time, Tay. I think she will come around."

"She has to, Ike. I can't lose my band and her, too."

Isaac didn't reply for a few minutes, then he said "Well, when you talk to Natalie, I wouldn't put things quite that way." 

"What? Oh, I guess that doesn't sound exactly the way I would want it to."

"Exactly." Isaac pulled into to the driveway of our parents' house. Mom opened the door before we even got out of the car.

"Merry Christmas!" She greeted with her apron on and a wooden spoon in her hand.

"Thanks, Mom." I hugged her then stepped inside.

"Merry Christmas, Isaac." Mom hugged him and kissed him on the cheek. "Dinner will be ready in a bit. There are snacks in the living room."

"Merry Christmas, guys!" Zoe came over to hug us. She wore long earrings with red and green colored gems dangling from the ends, a tacky Christmas sweater and a Santa hat. "I just finished setting out the appetizers. Help yourself."

I grabbed a handful of salted peanuts from the spread of finger food on the coffee table. "It looks great in here."

"Thanks. I did most of it myself."

I nodded. "We have presents. In the car." I was talking to my sister like I barely knew her. I suppose that was almost accurate. She was born the same year Middle of Nowhere was released. She was closer to our younger siblings than to us. Even before we all got houses of our own, we were gone most of the time on tour or recording albums.

"Do you need help getting them out?"

"We can manage. Have you heard from Zac?"

 "No. Maybe Mom has."

"Okay, I'll call him once we get the presents out of the car. Ike, you ready?"

"Whenever you are."

Christmas sales weren't quite going full force in  mid-November, so I just added what I spent on gifts to the total I already owed Isaac. I had something special put away for him - I had given it to my Mom to keep until Christmas Day. I knew my family would still go to church together and have some type of small celebration.

We agreed, given the circumstances, that no one should spend over $20.00 on each other. I left a stack of presents for my kids at home, with instructions for Isaac to send them to Natalie's family in Georgia if she didn't come home before. I couldn't see why she would, though. I would be in prison until May, but maybe after I could talk to her. I could tell her the plan and let her know that I could still provide for her and be at home more. She would probably beg me to go on tour once my two years of probation were up.

Zoe helped Isaac and I put the presents under the Christmas tree. There were already a pile of presents - my parents couldn't have possibly stuck to the $20 rule.

 I took a moment to walk around the Christmas tree. Some of the ornaments were just the standard balls, but most of them were a hodge-podge of things we had made and collected over the years.

"I can't believe Mom kept this," I said to no one in particular.

"What is it?" Isaac asked.

I lifted the laminated airplane ticket from where it lay nestled in the branches. The makeshift ornament hung from the tree from red yarn. Zac made it the Christmas after our first world tour. Ornaments from each of our first Christmases and pictures of us as children glued to construction paper stars and bells filled the Christmas tree. I wished I had taken the time to make ornaments with my own children. Natalie preferred store-bought, matching decorations, though. We had a new color theme every year and boxes of ornaments in our attic that we never used.

"Dinner in fifteen minutes," Mom called from the kitchen.

"I'll call Zac," I said to Isaac and Zoe.

 "Good luck," they said at the same time.

"Hello?" Zac sounded groggy, like he had just woken up.

"Zac! Are you coming to Christmas dinner?"

"Christmas? Oh, yeah. Was that today?"

"Yes."

"Sorry, I was asleep. I'll be over there in a bit."

"Zac! It is two in the afternoon. Have you been asleep all day?" What was wrong with him? My younger brother usually had more energy than all of us combined. Sleeping this much wasn't like him.

" Tell Zac we will wait on him," I heard my Mom call.

"Okay, Mom. Zac, we will wait on you."

"Don't bother."

"Zac," I lowered my voice "I know you are pissed, and you have every right to be, but it would mean a lot to me and the family if you came."

"Don't play the family card. You've done that for the past 18 years - 'the band means so much to the family.' You lied. You just wanted to keep the band going so you could steal our money."

"Zac, that's not true. You know how much I love making music with you and Ike."

"Do you really? Or do you just love the perks? Cause you seem to get more of them than either one of us do."

"Zac. I'm tired of arguing with you. Come or not. If not, I'll see you in six months."

"Fine!" I heard him say as I clicked the phone off.

"How did that go?" Isaac asked when I walked back into the living room.

"Not good, I guess he isn't coming."

"Oh yes he is." I'll be right back." Isaac dug for his cell phone through the clutter of appetizer plates on the coffee table. Zoe and I just looked at each other - we both recognized the Old Man Hanson voice.

"Glad I'm not Zac right now," Zoe said to me once Isaac was out of earshot.

"Me too." 

* * *

 

  
"WHAT?" I heard my younger brother yell. 

"Zac, you are being a jerk. Get your ass over to Mom's right now. We are doing Christmas and you are going to come over and be happy about it. You can get over yourself for a few hours." I told him.

"I can't believe you are on Tay's side, Ike! It's like he has you wrapped up in the same 'Taylor charm' that makes all our fans insane."

"Tay never had fan break into a truck, Zac. Or lick . . ."

"Okay! Fine, I'll come over. Just please, don't ever talk about that again."

"Great! When can we expect you?"

"Give me about an hour. Do I need to stop by the store and pick up anything?"

"No, Taylor bought presents from you to the family. He had a feeling you wouldn't get around to it."

"He was right."

"Of course. See you in a hour."

 "Merry Christmas, Zac!" I heard our Mom say about 2 hours later. All the dishes she had spent so much time preparing were cold. It would be Christmas leftovers at this point.

"We'll just have to microwave everything. I kept everything in the warmer as long as I could, but I was afraid things would start to dry out," Mom's voice faded in the direction of the kitchen.

"It's, okay, Mom. I'm sorry I'm late. Everything you cook is always good," he said.

"Thanks, sweetie. Everyone else is in the living room. I'll just uncover everything, it shouldn't be much longer."

"Hey," Zac walked up behind me. Taylor, Zoe and I were sprawled out over the sectional watching _It’s a Wonderful Life_. "Are they playing Christmas movies already?"

"No, it's a DVD," Zoe didn't take her eyes off the screen when she answered. "We can make room for you."

"Nah, I'm okay. It looks like it is almost over, anyway. I'll go see if Mom needs some help."

"I'll go, too." I said.

"No, it's fine. You guys have been here all morning. I'm the reason dinner is late."

"We had snacks," I said.

"I see." Zac picked up a bowl of potato chip crumbs. "Are you even going to have room for dinner?"

"Yes." The three of us said at the same time.

"Jessie and Avery couldn't make it?"

"No." I talked with my sisters earlier in the day, but the girls weren't as easy to threaten as Zac. They said they were tied up with 3CG business and couldn't come. We would have to find something else for them to do when we started producing. They were mostly in charge of the merch and events. I couldn't very well downsize my own sisters.

"Oh," Zac glanced in Taylor's direction. Taylor glanced up at him then looked away.

"Okay, kids, dinner's ready," Mom said coming to stand in between Taylor and Zac. "Zoe, will you go get your father, please?"

 Our younger sister nodded and headed toward the back of the house.

"Usual places?" I asked.

Mom glanced at Taylor and Zac, who usually sat beside each other at family gatherings. Taylor looked down, afraid, I was sure, of being rejected by his own brother. "We can break with tradition this year."

"It's fine, Mom," Zac said.

Mom smiled for probably the first time since Taylor's arrest. "Great! Go ahead and take your places. Your dad shouldn't be too much longer."

"I'm here!" We heard our Dad's heavy footsteps on the laminate floor. 

"Shall we eat?" Mom asked

"Yes, let's sit. Zac, would you like to say grace?" Dad asked, taking his place at the head of the table.

"Oh, ummm, I haven't done that in a while. Maybe you should let Isaac do it?" Zac replied

 "Being out of practice is no excuse for not practicing, son."

"I just . . . Maybe next time?"

"Ike?"

I reached my hand out to Taylor one side and Mom on the other. We all joined hands and I spoke the things I had been silently praying for weeks.

_"Through the prayers of our holy fathers, O Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God have mercy on us. Amen._

_Bless this food and the hands that prepared it, and bless our family through this trial. Please help our hearts heal so we can bring glory to Your name once again._

_At this time I pray a special prayer for Taylor. Be with him every day, every minute, every hour while he is in prison and let your loving kindness shine upon him. Help us in our future business endeavors as you have always helped us in the past. You are our Savior, our Light and our Hope. And while we celebrate this holiday together as family, we remember that Your life on earth and sacrifice is the reason we celebrate._

_Forgive us where we have sinned and help us forgive others as they wrong us. Be with us everyday and help us show your glory to the world. In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen."_

"Amen! Good thing the food is already cold. Jeeze, Ike. Long winded much?" Zac was the first to speak.

"You had your chance."

"I thought it was wonderful," my mom said.

"Me, too. Thank you, Isaac. I love you," Taylor squeezed my hand. Zac just rolled his eyes.

"It was a very nice prayer. Not the standard for a food blessing, but I suppose it will do," Dad said.

"Can we eat before Ike and Tay turn into girls?" Zac asked.

"What's wrong with being a girl?" Zoe asked.

"Nothing, if you are one," Zac replied.

"Coming from the one that thought he was girl first time he saw himself on television," I shot back.

"Boys, be nice," Mom said.

"Well, let's eat!" Dad suggested. I'm sure he thought we couldn't argue if our mouths were full.

It only took about 20 minutes for us to devour the meal I'm sure Mom spend days preparing. All of our favorite foods filled the table - sweet potatoes, ham, yeast rolls, macaroni and cheese, cornbread dressing and corn pudding. Everything tasted fantastic despite us having to take turns warming everything up in the microwave.  I couldn't speak for Taylor, but I almost forgot that he was going to prison in two days.

"I'll help you with the dishes, Mom" Zoe offered.

"I will, too" I said.

"Me too," Taylor and Zac offered at the same time. They looked at each other for a moment, then Zac spoke.

"You and Dad have been working hard. Let us do the dishes for you. We'll meet you in the living room in a bit to open presents."

"That sounds like a wonderful idea. Thank you, Zac," Mom said.

I washed the plates and Zoe dried while Zac and Taylor cleared the table and put away the food. I kept one ear out in case they started throwing dishes at each other, but tried not to intrude otherwise. 

 

* * *

 

  
Taylor and I cleared the table in a silence broken only by the dishes clinking until we both tried to squeeze through the kitchen door at the same time.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"It's fine. Go ahead," Taylor pointed with the empty casserole dish.

"No, Tay. I mean I'm sorry for being a jerk. I've been a selfish bastard. We've been through a lot together. You had my back when no one else did and that deserves some consideration."

"Zac, that means so much to me. I can't say I blame you. I completely broke your trust. But I will do whatever it takes to get it back."

"If you work on that, I'll work on being less of a jerk. I was just so angry and hurt, you know?"

"I know. I'm still angry at myself. I beat myself up over it everyday and if I could take it back, I would."

I nodded and we went back to clearing the table until Taylor broke the silence again.

"Hey, Zac?"

"Yeah?"

"Why the sudden change of heart?"

"When we were eating, I got to thinking about how good the food was and how much I love Christmas with my family. Then I realized this is your Christmas - on December 25th you'll be in prison eating who knows what instead of spending it with us and your kids."

"Well, I might not get to spend any more Christmases with my kids."

"I heard Natalie left. I'm sorry, Tay. I know how much it hurts to be rejected by the love of your life. And you were there for me when Mary left me for Isaac."

"I remember. Isaac was on the receiving end of your wrath that time. I just didn't want you kill our brother."

"I called Mary."

"Oh yeah?

"Yeah. She is married now. They are expecting their first baby. I always thought that maybe she would want me if I wasn't in the band. But she doesn't."

"I'm sorry, Zac. I really am. I know you loved her and I know how much you want a family of your own. If it is meant to be, the right woman will come along. And if it isn't, there is nothing you can do to force it to happen."

"Do you think you and Natalie are meant to be? Are you going to fight for her or just let her leave?"

"When the time is right, I'll contact her. But what is the point now? Natalie needs time to heal and I'm about to be gone for six months. I'm hoping maybe in the time I'm in prison she will start missing me. And if she wants me to fight for her, I will. But I have no intention of dragging my kids through a bunch of drama."

"You are a good man, Tay. Your kids are lucky to have you."

"Thank you, Zac. That means a lot coming from you."

"Coming from me?"

"I know that you won't bullshit me."

"Least likely to bullshit. I like that," I laughed and Taylor joined in.

"I didn't know doing dishes was so much fun," Dad said. "Are we about ready for dessert?" He patted his stomach.

"Just about," Taylor said.

"More dishes? We just got finished with dinner dishes," Isaac came into the dining room holding a dishtowel.

"I'll wash the desert plates after we open presents."

 We loaded down our dessert saucers with fudge, red velvet cake, pecan pie and cookies. Mom's dessert is the best part of Christmas and it was so hard to choose just one dessert to eat so we all ate a bit of everything.

"Mom, this is so good," Taylor said through a mouthful of red velvet cake. It had always been one of his favorites.

"You can take the rest home with you."

"Thanks, Mom." Taylor's face fell a little and I knew he was thinking that he only had two more days. For the first time since this whole mess started, I actually felt sorry for Taylor. I hoped he would be okay. As confident as he seemed to most of the world, I knew that he didn't do well in enclosed spaces. Back during Hansonmania, we would leave our hotel in decoy vehicles and he would freak out almost as soon as our security guards shut the door. He learned to control it a little better over the years, but for Taylor freedom to go where he wanted when he wanted was as vital to him as breathing.

"I'll take the plates to the kitchen," I offered. "Wanna help, Ike?"

"Ok," he said, scraping the last sticky bits of pecan pie from his plate.

"Ike, I'm worried about Tay." I said when we were in the kitchen.

"Well, it's about time," Isaac said.

"Look, I know I've been a jerk but . . ."

"Yeah, you have been. Taylor is under enough stress without his brother acting like a complete shit."

"Isaac, I know. I'm sorry. I've already apologized to Taylor. I promise I'm trying to do better. Is he going to be okay in prison?"

"I'm worried about him. But Taylor is a fighter. He's always been able to pull through when it really counted. We'll just have to take care of him as best we can from the outside. We can write and visit and hopefully this next six months will go by fast for all of us."

"I'm ready to do whatever it takes. I'll get some paintings ready to sell at Hanson Day and contribute whatever I make from those to Taylor's fine."

"That's really great of you, Zac."

"Well, I have plenty in the bank. I'm not doing it entirely for Taylor, either. It is going to be rough on the entire family with Taylor gone for six months, so I don't even want to think about what would happen if he goes away for five years. I think the only thing that is getting him through is the thought that Natalie will come back after he gets out of prison."

"It isn't the only thing," Isaac said so quietly I barely heard what he said.

"I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry."

"It doesn't matter. I've always taken care of him, of both of you. I'd do it again in a heartbeat."

"Taylor and I are so lucky to have you. We hit the jackpot in the big brother department."

"Thanks, Zac. Now who sounds gay?"

 "I just didn't want to be left out."

"Present time!" Zoe called. "How long does it take to put up plates?"

 "We're coming," I yelled back. Isaac and I settled on the couch on either side of Taylor. Zoe had already started distributing presents and it didn't take her long to finish.

"I told you not to get me anything," Taylor said, looking at the few presents piled in front of him.

"We wanted to," Mom said.

"Yeah, it's Christmas, Tay." I told him.

"I know. I just don't really deserve a Christmas this year, do I?"

"Jordan Taylor, everyone deserves Christmas," Mom told him.

"I'm really lucky to have all of you. That's present enough."

"I think you've been watching to many TV movies lately. Let's open our presents. And just think, by this time next year this whole mess will be over with," I said, lifting one of his gift bags and putting it in his hand.

"I can't wait," Taylor replied.

 

 


	10. Lock Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV: Isaac, Taylor, Zac (in that order)

We didn't speak the entire drive to the prison. Taylor stared out the window and my only company was the GPS navigator instructing me where to go. Tay asked me after he got the letter with his reporting instructions if I would be the one to take him. Of course I agreed. Taylor said his goodbyes to the family after our early Christmas celebration, he thought it would be easier that way. Two days and two sleepless nights later, we were headed toward Jim E Hamilton Correctional Facility. Two and a half hours after leaving Tulsa, I spotted a small blue sign with an arrow directing us to the prison. The road leading to the facility was far from the tree lined picture in the brochure, and the high, curled barbed wire fence that stretched around the concrete buildings made the facility's designation as a minimum security prison doubtful. I found a parking place next to the sidewalk leading into what I guessed to be the main building. The radio clock showed 10:30 AM - thirty minutes before his scheduled report time. Early was not usually something we did, but the letter from the prison stated that if Taylor was even a minute late reporting, the consequences would be severe - time in solitary confinement, no privileges and even months added to his sentence.

"Do you want me to go in with you?"

"Yes," Taylor barely let me finish my sentence before answering.

"Okay. Whenever you're ready."

Taylor looked at me with his crystal clear blue eyes. "I just want to get this over with. When is release day again?"

"May 11th at 8:00 AM."

"And you'll be here when?"

"May 11th at 7:00 AM."

"Okay," he pushed the car door open with one swift movement and was halfway up the sidewalk before I could even take off my seatbelt.

"Tay! Wait!" I called after him. He stopped and turned around to wait, but a voice boomed over the loudspeaker.

"Keep moving on the sidewalk, please!" Taylor jumped and started walking again, but this time he walked slowly enough to allow me to catch up to him.

We pulled on the metal double doors, but found them locked.

I reached out to press the speaker button for the intercom, but before I could do so, a voice informed us "No visiting hours on Wednesday. Visiting hours are Friday . . ."

Taylor pressed the button to cut her off "I'm here to self report. Taylor Hanson. Thank you."

"I don't have a Taylor Hanson on my list."

"JORDAN Taylor Hanson. Either open the doors or you can come to my house and drag my ass back up here."

We heard the lock click and Taylor jerked the door open.

"You are well on your way to being written up before you are even processed in, Mr. Hanson," the owner of the intercom voice told him when we reached the desk.

If looks could kill, my brother would have been arrested for murder in the foyer of the prison. "Okay, so what now? Handcuffs?" he stretched his hands out to Corr. Officer First Class Shirley Rogers.

"I'll inform the processing team you are here. You and your partner can go have a seat over there," she motioned to a couple of hard blue plastic chairs.

"We're brothers," I told her.

"Yeah, right." Officer Rogers looked at her coworker, an equally old and sour-faced woman. They both laughed.

The plastic was cold and I wondered if the inside of the prison was as chilly as the lobby. No one in the Hanson family liked to be cold. Taylor often wore scarves outside even in the summer and we always had venues turn off the air conditioning, even though we knew we would get hot under the stage lights. I hoped that if he did get too cold the prison canteen would have blankets he could buy. I brought a money order for 50 dollars to start his prison account so he could buy whatever he needed.

I heard a door in the back click open and heavy boots on the cheap tile before I saw the prison guard come around the corner. "Hanson?" the officer unhooked a pair of handcuffs from his belt loop.

Taylor and I stood at the same time. _What would it hurt? No one would even care enough to know if I went in instead of Taylor._

"Me," Taylor was a split second faster than I was. His eyes told me he knew exactly what I had been thinking. "Thanks for the ride, Ike. See you in six months."

"You'll see me sooner."

"Okay," Taylor addressed the officer. I watched him handcuff my little brother and turn him toward the back of the foyer.

"Walk slowly in front of me. No sudden moves," the officer instructed. 

I watched until Taylor disappeared behind thick metal doors and I jumped when they banged shut.

"Excuse me, m'am?" I approached the desk.

"We don't do those types of visits here, son," Officer Rogers and her cohort laughed. "Besides, no visitors for the first 30 days."

"30 days? I didn't read about that anywhere on the website."

"Each facility sets it's own visitation guidelines separate from the DOC."

"Fine. Well, anyway I just wanted to add some money to my brother's account while I was here."

"What account? He won't be processed in for 14 days. Prisoner accounts take a few days after that to be set up. And with the holidays coming up, it will take even longer. Just wait until mid-December, then send the money. I'm reasonably sure that everything should be set up by then."

I just shook my head. "Okay. Fuck it."

She got out a yellow pad "Sir, I'm going to have to cite you for using language on state property. 20 minutes will be deducted from your _brother's_ outside privileges. Once he is out of processing isolation and is allowed outside privileges, that is."

"No, please don't do that. I didn't know."

She raised her eyebrow at me "If ignorance of the law was an excuse, I'd be out of a job right now."

"You should be anyway," I muttered.

"What was that?" Her pen was raised above the yellow pad.

"Nothing. You ladies have a good day."

I walked as fast as I could back to my car. I scrolled through my iPod until I found my AC/DC play list and cranked the volume all the way up as I peeled out of the parking lot. 

 

* * *

 

  
We were in a long hallway that seemed to connect with the back part of the prison. It was even colder back here than it had been up front. Doors lined one side of the hallway while the other was white concrete block.

"Jordan Hanson?" The officer looked down at his clipboard as if I wasn't the same person he called five minutes ago.  "I've heard about you. Apparently my niece hasn't stopped crying since she heard that you stole from your brothers. She told me once she thought you could save the world. Last I heard, she was looking into getting her tattoo removed. Some lyrics of yours I think 'crazy pretty' or something like that."

"Sorry to hear that."

"Yeah. I'm officer O'Neil by the way. I'll be with you through the next 30 days while you are processed in. Shower room first."

The door he opened lead to a large tile room with a drain on the floor. It smelled strongly of ammonia, which I assumed they used to clean it.

"Take everything off and put it in here," he took a box from a shelf. "Then, go stand over the drain."

"Why?"

"SOP - everyone is disinfected during in-processing."

"Disinfected? You disinfect toilets, not people."

"At least toilets are useful to society."

"Wow. Okay." I took off my shoes and threw them in the box. I shivered when my bare feet touched the cold tile.

"Are you demonstrating violence toward an officer of the law?"

"No. I'm demonstrating violence toward the box. Can I keep my wedding ring on?"

"Nope, in the box."

"Fine." I wriggled off my ring and placed it as gently as I could inside one of my shoes. I figured it had less chance of "accidentally" getting lost that way. I took off the rest of my clothes and stood over the drain. I flinched when I felt gloved hands sliding down my arms.

"What are you doing?"

"Rub down to make sure you aren't hiding anything. Lift your arms." O'Neil ran his hands all over my body. He checked my mouth, nose and ears. I wanted to scream at him to just stop and leave me the hell alone. But, I didn't. I knew that I deserved everything I was getting.

"Squat and cough."

"What?"

"Squat down and cough. If your hiding anything, it will fall out. If you refuse, I'll have to search."

"Jesus. Ok." I did it as fast as I could.

"Alright. Time for a shower."

O'Neil stepped to the back of the room and pressed a button in the wall. Two men dressed in scrubs came out of another door with hoses. Without a word they started spraying me down. I knew then where the ammonia smell came from - but surely they weren't allowed to use ammonia on people, right? I didn't have time to dwell - the smell was making my skin burn and my head foggy. At one point I felt my knees start to buckle, but I made myself stay standing. The water pressure alone was enough to irritate my skin, and when they finally turned off the hoses, my skin felt like it was crawling with fire ants. One of the men came with another hose and sprayed my body with plain warm water - my skin still burned, but not as much.

"Okay, exam room next. Follow me," O'Neil led me, dripping wet and still naked to a door on the far side of the room. The exam room looked like a mini-doctor's office with a scale and tiny exam table. I wondered how they expected an adult male to fit on it.

"What size briefs do you wear?"

"Ummm, boxers."

"None of those here. Just standard white. What size?"

"Medium I guess."

"Ok." Officer O'Neil opened a cabinet and threw me a pair of underwear sealed in a plastic bag.

I quickly put them on even though my skin was still wet.

"One of our nurses will be in a moment to give your initial physical eval. Once the nurse is finished, I'll come back in with your uniform and get you started on some paperwork."

"I understand."

O'Neil had barely closed the door before a male nurse entered. "J. Hanson. I'll do your initial eval. Step over to the scale for me please." He muttered to himself while he recored my weight and height. "Okay, do you have an infectious diseases that you know of?"

"No."

"Turn around for me, please."

I did so and he said to his clipboard "Initial eval shows no signs of any open wounds or sores. Do you have any health issues that require constant monitoring?"

"No."

"Are you taking any medications?"

"No."

"Alright, I'll just listen to your heart and take your blood pressure and you'll be done. You'll be called back in a day or so for a more extensive exam with our staff doctor."

"Fine." I tried not to think about how cold I was while the nurse finished making notes on his chart.

"All done. I'll call Officer O'Neil back."

"I'm here," O'Neil almost bumped into the nurse as he turned to push the intercom. "This will be your wardrobe while you're here. You'll get a number and another set issued in a few days." He handed me a folded beige jumper, a pair of white tennis shoes without laces, white socks, and a white undershirt.

I dressed quickly - anxious for a layer between me and the cold. The prison uniform actually fit decently - the material was stiff, but not as scratchy as the scrubs issued at the Tulsa County Prison.

"How did you know my size?"

"I'm good at guessing. Next is paperwork, follow me."

I followed the officer  down the hallway to a room with a school desk and a stack of papers at least fifty pages thick. "Have a seat. Read over everything, make sure that you understand the rules. If you have any questions, ask. You can read?"

"Yes," I slid into the chair and picked up the first page. It asked for information about my family and who I would like to be on my visitors list. O'Neil sat in a bigger chair a little ways from the desk and crossed his arms.

There were no clocks in the room, but I was sure it took me over an hour to sign the paperwork. At first, I tried to read each document carefully, but it didn't take me long to go into autograph mode. I was sure I'd even put "all the best" above my signature on some of the pages.

"Ok." I put down the pen and looked up at O'Neil.

"Alright, that's all for today. Allow me to show you to your cell."

We came out of a door on the end of the paperwork room to a sidewalk that connected the first building to other buildings behind it. I guessed this was where the prisoners stayed. It was cool outside, but not nearly as cold as inside the prison. I felt like I would probably whither away under the fluorescent lights of the prison.I needed sunshine. I thought I remembered something about outside privileges from the paperwork.

 O'Neil swiped his badge and a heavy metal door clicked open. We were in a tiny foyer, then walked through another metal door. I had to remind myself to start breathing when I saw the long row of small cell doors. These cells didn't have bars like in the movies, but narrow metal doors with a small window set at about my shoulder height.

"You'll be in isolation until you are cleared by medical staff. It usually takes around three weeks for the tests to come back."

"Isolation?"

"You'll eat at a separate table in the cafeteria and have a cell by yourself. Once you are cleared, you'll be moved to a dorm in general population and you'll start getting outside privileges." He opened a door about halfway down the hall. Sheets were folded at the end of the bottom half of a bunk bed. A flat pillow was at the other end. A toilet and a sink were on the opposite wall. "Well, go in. I'll see you in a few hours for dinner, Hanson. Until then, make yourself at home." I saw a grin on his face just before he slammed the cell door shut.

I sat on the bed with my back against the cold concrete wall. Tears sprang to my eyes. I wondered where Isaac was. He was probably at home having a drink. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine what he would say:

_"Rough day?"_

_"Yeah. Can you believe that guy compared me to a toilet?"_

_"And you used to think it was bad when people called you a girl."_

_"True. I miss you."_

_"Look at it this way - you have one day less to be here. And when you get out, it will be summer."_

_"I wish you were here."_

_"Thanks, bro. That's nice."_

_"Not here, like in prison, but here with me. I would never wish this on you."_

_"I would take your place in a second."_

_"I know. You almost tried to."_

_"You are needed more than me."_

_"Why do you keep saying that? Ok, so I'm supposed to be the front man or leader or whatever, but I couldn't do any of it without you behind me. I wish you were here. Did I say that already?"_

_"Yes."_

"Hanson?" O'Neil banged on the door so hard it shook, then opened it.

"What?" I hoped the annoyance at O'Neil making so much damn noise didn't show too much in my voice.

"You may address me as 'Sir' or 'Officer O'Neil.'"

"Yes, sir?"

"I forgot to give you this earlier," O'Neil tossed a small kit with soap, a small toothbrush, toothpaste and shampoo toward me. It reminded of cheap hotel toiletries.

"Thanks."

"I also need to give you an update on dinner before I go home for the night."

I looked at the officer, waiting for him to continue.

"Your full medical work-up is first thing in the morning and you need to fast for the blood test. So, no dinner for you tonight."

"I've never had to fast that long for a test."

"Well, you do for this one. I'm sure you'll survive. You did eat before you reported here?"

 "I ate last night. It doesn't matter, I'm not hungry anyway. Thank you for the update. Goodnight, sir." I laid on the bed and faced the wall, hoping he would go away.

"I'll come get you at 8:00. Make up the bed before then. No maids here, Rockstar."

"Yes, officer."

I waited until I was sure he was gone before I stretched out to lay on my back. Either the cells were soundproof or I was the only person on the hall. I didn't hear anything except the air conditioner blowing. I knew the thin sheet wouldn't do much to keep me warm, but I covered up with it anyway. I felt so helpless just laying there, looking at the ceiling. I let my hands occupy themselves with memorizing the rough, uneven texture of the concrete wall. How many other new inmates had done the same thing? I'd be willing to be that more than a few were like me - scared, lonely, and aching for something to do to take their minds off the next months or years.

"I deserve this," I said to the empty room. "But, oh my God, I don't want to be here right now." I was all alone and couldn't keep the tears back anymore. I cried for myself, for what I had done to the band and my family, for Natalie and my kids. My body ached from shaking and  my pillow was wet before I felt strong enough to get out of bed so I could wash my face. I let the faucet run for several minutes, but the tiny stream of water was barely lukewarm when I splashed it over my face.

"No towel. Ok." I rubbed my face and shook my hands to dry them. By my estimate, it was only 7 or 8 at night, but I really didn't have anything better to do bedsides try to sleep.

"I wish I had a jet lag pill," I said into the pillow. Another wave of body racking sobs washed over me as I realized I might never have a need for travel sedatives again. 

* * *

 

  
"Looking at your phone won't make him call any faster, Zac," Avery said.

"I just want to make sure I didn't miss his call. That's all," I put my phone back in my pocket and glanced over at my mom. She worked silently packing old t-shirts away in boxes for storage. I knew she was as anxious as I was to hear from Isaac. She had barely said a word all morning as we worked to make more room in our studio space for production equipment and meetings with artists.

"What happened, anyway? I thought you were pissed at Tay?"

"I was, but when I got to thinking about him in prison . . ." I paused so I could get my thoughts together.

"You felt sorry for him?"

"A little. Especially after I found out Natalie left. And you know he freaks when he feels cooped up. Somehow, Isaac could always make it better, but he has to be on his own for six months."

"Well, if it was my brother, I'd still be pissed."

"Avie? He is your brother."

"Oh, yeah. Sometimes I forget." I heard something inside the box she was moving rattle as she slammed it down.

"Hey! Easy on the merch! We might try to sell that at Hanson Day."

"Year old bottles of MMMHops?"

"It won't matter. As long as we put a sign that they are not for drinking. Lots of fans say they just want a bottle for a keepsake. And if we sell them as merch, we won't need an alcohol license."

"I'm not sure you're right about that."

"Ok, fine. I said 'might.' I'll look up the law to be sure."

"You better. I think one Hanson brother in jail is all your fans can take."  she said.

"That reminds me, I need to get with Issac so we can make the official announcement."

"Why haven't you done that already?"

"Isaac wanted to wait until after Taylor reported to start his sentence to tell them so Taylor would have one less thing to deal with. The major fall-out should all blow over by time he gets out." '

"I see, so . . ." Avery didn't get a chance to finish her question.

"Ike?" I answered my phone as soon as I heard the first note of my Call of Duty ringtone.

"Hey, Zac."

"Where are you?"

"I'm about an hour outside of Tulsa. I tried to call before, but I just now got cell service. That place is out in the . . . well, you know." 

"I'd imagine it would be. How is it? How is Taylor?"

"Taylor had his brave face on. I hope that's a good sign, but you know sometimes even I have trouble telling."

"And the prison?"

"It isn't exactly what the brochure showed, but . . .I don't know, damn it. It's a prison with a big fence and guards that yell at you before you even get in the door."

"So, it pretty much sucks, huh?"

"Yeah, pretty much. Hopefully Taylor will figure out the rules fast and just stay under the radar the next few months."

"Right. Because under the radar has always been so easy for him in the past."

"I'm trying to be positive, Zac."

"You're right. I'm sorry. So, what the staff there just act like big bullies?"

"I didn't think about it that way, but yeah. These two ladies at the front desk were so power happy they had to use every excuse to show it off."

"And how are you?"

I thought the phone might have cut out since my brother didn't answer right away, but finally Isaac said "I'm okay. I'd be better if I knew Taylor was okay, but it will probably be a month before I hear from him."

"What about one phone call?"

"No phone calls until they get his account set up."

"He has to pay for phone calls?"

"A dollar a minute. It comes out of the same account he would use to buy things from the prison store."

"Wow. I thought people got into the prison cycle to avoid paying bills. It sounds expensive."

"I had no idea it was this complicated, either. I found a handbook for inmate's families online, it's over 100 pages."

"Shit."

"Zac!" I heard from the other side of the room.

"Sorry, Mom," I called back to her. "Are you planning on coming by the studio today?"

"Do you need me for anything? I kind of just wanted to go home."

"No, we're okay for now. Just mostly doing manual labor today. No brain power needed."

I heard another box slam down somewhere behind me. This time I was sure I smelled beer.

"Everything okay over there? Maybe I should stop by," Apparently Isaac heard the crash, too.

"Nah, I just pissed Avery off. What is it with women always eavesdropping and then getting mad because they thought you were talking about them when it was something they weren't supposed to hear in the first place?"

"I'm sorry? Repeat the question."

"Nothing. I can handle it. I think I'm about ready to hang it up for the day myself. Let me know if you hear anything else about Taylor."

"I will. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay, bro. Take care."

"You barely got here and now you are leaving? Must be nice to be the boss," Avery said.

"You can go home, too if you want. We are all under a lot of stress today. Maybe we should all just take a break."

"We need to get as much done as we can tonight. The moving truck will be here in the morning and we need to make sure we return it before five so we won't be charged for two days."

"I didn't realize that. I'll stay and help, then. Are you guys hungry? Do you want me to order in something?" I was trying to make amends, I knew she thought I was talking about her earlier.

"How are you always hungry?"

"I'm not, actually. I just wondered if you were. How about Queenie's?" I knew it was her favorite lunch spot and that she would have a hard time saying no.

"Ok. I wouldn't mind a break from lifting, though. How about you call in the order and I'll go get it?"

"Sounds good. You know you can take a break whenever."

"I'll take a break tomorrow after we take the truck back."

"Whatever works for you. Have you seen Mom? I'll see if she wants anything."

"She finished packing t-shirts. I think she went to take stock of the rehearsal room."

"Hey mom?" I walked toward the back of the studio where we had the biggest space to rehearse.

"Yes, sweetie?" she had been facing a huge shelving unit used for storing my drum kits, but turned to look at me.

"We are going to order lunch from Queenie's. Do you want anything?"

"No, I'm . . . " She looked like she was about to cry, so I pulled her into a hug.

"Taylor will be fine, Mom. He's tough."

"Do you think he got lunch today? Do you think the food there is edible?"

"I'm sure he got something to eat. It won't be like your cooking, but I'm sure he'll find enough to keep him full."

She nodded.

"I heard from Isaac."

"What did he say?"

"He ummm, well they made it to the prison okay. He said it was a little bit more secure than the brochure lead him to believe. But the staff take their jobs seriously."

She nodded again. "And Isaac is okay?"

"Ok as can be expected. They are close, you know."

"I know. Isaac has been taking care of Taylor since he was a baby. Even at three years old, Isaac would barely let anyone but me or your Dad hold him. Isaac cried more than Taylor did when we took him in for his six-month shots."

"He is a good big brother. But that's because you and Dad are such good parents."

"You are sweet. You'd better go call in lunch if you are going, too, though. Queenie's is going to close soon."

"I will. Are you sure you don't want anything?"

"I guess I could have a bowl of soup. You can get some money out of my purse."

"I've got this, Mom. I'll call it in and come back to help you."

"Good. I have no idea what of this you want to store and what you might need."

"We'll figure it out. We always do."

Her smile let me know that she knew I was talking about more than just storing extra instruments. 


	11. On The Inside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV: Taylor, Isaac, Zac (in that order)

I heard O'Neil's footsteps before I heard his key in the lock. "Hanson! Up and at 'em!" he yelled, sticking his head inside the cell door. 

"I'm up," I told him. I wasn't sure how long I'd been awake or what time it was now, but it felt like hours. I had smoothed out my bed until there wasn't a wrinkle left simply because I had nothing else to do. The more I stared at the walls, the more they seemed to close in on me.  
  
"Glad to see you made your bed. It usually takes a few mornings eating last for the new ones to figure out this ain't a hotel."   
  
"I figured it out yesterday."    
  
"Did you now, Rockstar? I'm impressed. Alright, come on. Medical building is a fair walk from here."   
  
I stood and followed him out of the cell into the hall. I instantly felt calmer with more space between me and the walls.   
  
"I'm not required to put handcuffs on since we are moving inside the prison, and I'll be close by. But if you even look like you are thinking about trying to run, or hurt me or yourself, the cuffs go on. Understand?"  
  
"Yes, sir."   Maybe if I did everything he said, kept it all business, I could get through my first few weeks without any more demeaning comments from him.   
  
One gray-white cement wall followed another. I wouldn't know how to escape if I tried. Not that I really wanted to escape. To not be here, yes, but I knew escape would mean going into hiding. And I couldn't imagine living my life that way.   
  
_"It would be The Blues Brothers all over again,"_ my mind Isaac said.   
  
_"You would say that."_  
  
"What are you smiling about, Hanson? I've seen grown men cry for a full month. You aren't crazy, are you? No matter, you'll go for your psych evaluation in another day or two. You'll be transferred to Oklahoma State Penn if you fail. They have a special cell block for the crazies."   
  
"I'm not crazy. Just thinking that I have one day less to spend in here. That's all."   
  
"Well, how positive of you," he said in a syrupy voice that sounded strange coming from a six foot five prison guard. "Okay, Hanson, this is the Medical Wing."   
  
"Never would have guessed from the sign above your head." _Behave and cooperate,_ I told myself.   
  
"Sarcasm won't do you any favors. Come on," he held the wooden door open.  On the far wall was the standard doctor's office check in window. I noticed the wall clock read 7:45 AM. So far, we were the only two in the room.   
  
"Sick call starts at 8:00 AM. You'll be called back for your exam as soon as all the sick call patients are seen."  
  
"How many do you usually have?"

 "Depends on how many want to get out of their duties for the day. You'll probably be waiting a few hours." 

"Why couldn't you just come get me when sick call was done?" _Shut up, Taylor._  
  
"Because the medical staff's time is precious and it isn't like you have anywhere better to be."   
  
"I see."   
  
O'Neil gestured toward a few blue chairs lined up against the wall.  "I'll sign you in. Just have a seat."   
  
I'd only been sitting a few minutes when voice came over the PA system, "All inmates for sick call report to your dorm guard."  
  
"What is the point of keeping me in isolation if I'll be in the same waiting room with other prisoners for hours?"   
  
"Prison rules. The nurse yesterday asked if you any medical conditions. And you did sign the 'Declaration of Infectious Diseases Form," correct?"   
  
"Oh, yeah." I signed so many forms I didn't know what I signed.    
  
"Then you shouldn't be a danger to the prison population. Of course, if your tests do show that you have an infectious disease, and we can prove that you were aware of it when you signed the form, you'll be tried for perjury."   
  
"Of course." I heard loud voices out in the hallway.   
  
"AGAINST THE WALL!" A guard shouted. At least 50 prisoners filed in and stood against the wall opposite me. Many of them looked down, avoiding eye contact. Some stared straight ahead. Most looked well enough, but a few stumbled in with flushed cheeks and watery eyes. One prisoner near the back of the line clutched his arm.  Two other guards came in - one stood toward the middle of the line and the other took his place near the end. The leading guard took a clipboard over to the window and knocked loudly on it. "SICK CALL LIST." The window opened just enough for a hand to come out and take the clipboard.   
  
A few seconds later, the door next to the registration window opened.   
  
"Adams, David," the nurse said. She was in her early sixties and at least 100 pounds overweight. Her tone of voice suggested she didn't take any nonsense from the prisoners.   
  
"Here," the first inmate in line stepped forward.   
  
"Prisoner number?"   
  
"825679."   
  
"Ok. Come on back." She held the door open and I could see a few more guards standing around in the back of the clinic before she pulled the door shut. I heard a shuffle of feet as the line shifted forward. O'Neil had a brief conversation with one of the guards, then left. Apparently he had more important things to do.    
  
I watched the process take place over and over until the line was almost gone. Like many of my fellow inmates, I avoided eye contact and tried to keep a blank stare on my face.  O'Neil was right, the process did take a few hours.  Over the course of the morning, most of the prisoners that had been called back came out to stand at the back of the line. I guessed the ones that didn't were actually sick and had been kept for treatment.   
  
"Hanson, Jordan." the nurse called.   
  
"Here," I echoed what I observed the other inmates doing. I stood and walked toward the door.   
  
"Prisoner number?"  
  
"Oh, I don't have one yet."   
  
"Social?"   
  
I gave her the information.   
  
"Fine. Come on back." She closed the door behind me. "Step on the scale," she gestured with her clipboard.    
  
Why she was taking my weight again, I had no idea. It couldn't have changed that much in a day.   
  
"Weight's down a little from yesterday. When's the last time you ate?"

 "Umm, Tuesday night." 

  
"Now it's Thursday. You need to eat."   
  
"But Officer O'Neil said . . ." _Stop arguing. You are  not the boss here._  
  
"Take this to the bathroom. Leave the door open. You can just leave this on the shelf when you're done, then come back out to me."   
  
I took the plastic cup from her.   
  
"TURN OFF THE WATER!"   
  
I jumped, splashing water all over my uniform. The nurse reached over and turned off the faucet.   
  
"I was just washing my hands."   
  
"Haven't you taken a drug test before?"

 "No, actually. My boss doesn't require them." 

"You can't turn on water until I verify the specimen. Now you have to stay here until you can give another one."   
  
"Well, that information would have been helpful before, don't you think?"   
  
She rolled her eyes. "You signed off on the regulations for all your medical tests yesterday. Didn't you pay attention?"   
  
"I guess I skimmed over that part."   
  
"Fine. Take off your shirt and have a seat in the lab." Again, she used the clipboard to point.   
  
No sooner was I seated than she grabbed my arm and put a blood pressure cuff around it.    
  
"Blood pressure is good. It's usually quite high for first timers. Have you ever been diagnosed with low blood pressure?"   
  
"No. It's always been fine."   
  
"Ok. The doctor may want to run more tests. If you pass out and hurt yourself, we could be sued."  
  
"Glad to know you care."   
  
"I care about keeping my job and my retirement." Now she rubbed a gloved finger down one arm then the other. "You have good veins. Are you squeamish at all?"  
  
"No," although I wasn't sure she actually paid attention to the answer. She was going through the motions, any answer other than what she expected threw her off.   
  
"If you don't stop shaking, this is going to hurt," she held the needle above my arm, where she had already tied a blue band.   
  
"Sorry." I hadn't realized I was shaking my leg. I focused on sitting still. I'd never actually been to the doctor by myself. My Mom or Isaac went with me until I got married, then Natalie came along. I was never one to pass out over a needle, but still a familiar face helped.   
  
She held my arm tight and stabbed the needle in. "Damn!" I couldn't help it. It felt like she went straight down to the bone.   
  
"That's 20 minutes of outside privileges gone. When you get them, that is."   
  
"For what?"  
  
"Using language in front of prison staff."   
  
"You really expect grown men not to. . . What the hell was that?" My arm was throbbing.   
  
"Your vein blew. You must not be drinking enough water. Also 20 more minutes for language." she reached for my other arm but I  pulled it away.  
  
"I haven't been given anything to eat or drink since I got here yesterday. And 'hell' is not a curse word." My head started to throb, as if  speaking the words made my body realize it was dehydrated.   
  
"Guard!"   
  
A guard came and stood at the door of the lab.   
  
"He giving you trouble, Patricia?"  
  
"Using language and refusing to cooperate with medical staff, Larry."   
  
The guard nodded. "Do you want to go to solitary?" he addressed me.   
  
"Solitary?"   
  
"Just you, a bed, and a toilet. No books, no visitors, no outside privileges. Meals delivered to your cell. Solitary folks eat last, so you get whatever is left after the majority of 700 prisoners eat." While he explained, he started restraining my legs and one arm to the chair.   
  
"It doesn't sound much different than where I am now."   
  
He and Patricia laughed.   
  
"Cooperate or you'll get to find out just how different it is." Larry held the arm that wasn't restrained down tight on the armrest.   
  
The nurse tied a band around the arm she hadn't yet impaled. "Make a fist," she told me.   
  
"Gladly," I said through gritted teeth.   
  
"Threatening violence," Patricia and Larry said at the same time.   
  
I bit my tongue to keep from talking back. I stared a hole in the "Signs of Common STDs" poster on the opposite wall. I know a grown man crying over a blood test isn't macho, but I felt tears spring to my eyes when the needle went in. It hurt much worse this time, and the guard's grip got even tighter. Patricia took five vials of blood before she finished. I wondered what they could possibly need that much blood for, but I didn't ask for fear my questions would be seen as more non-compliance.   
  
"Done, Trish?"  
  
"Yes, thank you. If you'll take him to exam room 1, please."   
  
Larry undid the restraints and jerked me up by my sore arm and put his hand directly over the bruise, which I'm sure was on purpose.   
  
"In here. Sit." He walked me over to the exam table. I noticed he left the door open.  
  
Patricia followed a few minutes later and put my chart in a holder on the door. "Take off your shoes and pants. You'll see Dr. Lee today."   
  
Larry stood with his arms crossed by the door.   
  
"Aren't you going to close the door?" I asked him.   
  
"Why?"   
  
"So I can get undressed."   
  
Larry laughed. "No privacy in here. The door stays open. You don't have to be shy. In general pop, everyone gets the full on view. Shared showers and open bathroom stalls."   
  
"I can't wait." I took off my shoes and pants as instructed and sat back on the table. Why was it so cold in this damn place? Goosebumps broke out on my arms and legs while I waited for the doctor. It was at least 15 minutes before he came in.    
  
"I'm Dr. Lee, I'll be doing your exam today. Myself and my colleague, Dr. Miller, treat all the inmates here. Patrica said you haven't been eating?"  
  
"No. Officer O'Neil said I had to fast and wouldn't let me eat dinner last night."   
  
"And you didn't eat anything Wednesday morning?"  
  
"No. I was too nervous."   
  
"I understand. It takes some adjustment. But I'll inform O'Neil that you are not to skip meals. He should have at least made sure you had enough water. I'll get some for you when we are finished here, okay?" He made notes on my chart.   
  
"Ok."   
  
"Lay back on the table for me. This won't take long at all." Dr. Lee didn't make the usual doctor small talk as he examined me. I guessed the "what do you do," "anything interesting happen lately," questions didn't matter in here. He probably felt more like a factory worker than a doctor. He seemed like a good doctor, I wondered how he ended up working in a prison.    
  
"Alright, you are very healthy. You can sit up. I don't see any indication that you need to be on medication or that you have any contagions that would put the rest of the population at risk." Dr. Lee made notes in my chart as he spoke. "We'll just call Patricia in to give your vaccinations and you'll be all set."   
  
"Oh, I'm up to date. I travel a lot for work."  
  
He shuffled through some papers in my chart. "Do you have your shot records with you?"  
  
"No. My self-report instructions said not to bring anything."  
  
"Well, you signed off on your Consent for Immunization Form and didn't notate the vaccines you were current on in box 4b."   
  
I reached for the paper "I'll fill it out now. Sorry about that."   
  
"You can't alter paperwork once it's in your chart. At any rate, it won't do any harm to get a few boosters, right?"   
  
"Whatever."   
  
"Good. I'll get Patricia."   
  
Patricia waddled into the room a few minutes later carrying a tray with about 5 syringes on it. I watched them roll back and forth on the tray as she made her way toward me.  
  
"Are you going to cooperate this time, Hanson?" she asked.   
  
"I'm right here if he doesn't, Trish," the guard spoke up.   
  
"What are all those?" I wasn't looking forward to her sticking five more needles in me.   
  
"Flu shot, Pneumonia shot, Hep B, tentus and penicillin for good measure. Of course you'll have to come back to finish the Hep B series." She pulled on a pair of gloves and rubbed the top of my arm with alcohol.   
  
"I don't need penicillin, I'm not sick."   
  
"It's just in case. Can't have you spreading germs," she stuck a needle deep in my arm. And twisted it, I think.   
  
"Fuck!" Where the actual hell did this woman go to medical school?   
  
You just lost 20 more minutes of outside privileges. That was the tetnus shot. You'll have knot on your arm for a few days. "   
  
"In addition to the two you left earlier," I said in between three more jabs.   
  
"You wouldn't be still. I can't help it you were dehydrated and your veins shrank. Stand up. Penicillin goes in your hip."   
  
"Hasn't anyone ever told you that it's dangerous to give antibiotics when they aren't needed?"   
  
"We don't listen to all that new-age stuff here. This has been policy since the 60's. Larry, come help Hanson stand up."   
  
The guard started to saunter to me.   
  
"I'm standing. Just get it over with."   
  
"This is going to leave a knot, too."   
  
"I know, I've had . . . Shit!" Patricia knew how to make things hurt much more than they should.  I felt the shot all the way through my back. I think she got a certain pleasure out of it, like she was somehow helping justice by being cruel to prisoners.   
  
"That's an hour and 20 minutes of outside privileges gone. Men are the biggest babies. You're done. You can try for your drug test again now."   
  
"You have five vials of my blood. Test that."   
  
"They go to different labs. Are you refusing a drug test?"   
  
"I'll pee in the cup."   
  
"Good."   
  
Dr. Lee never brought the water he promised, but I still somehow managed enough piss for the drug test.  
  
"Patricia, I'm done," I called, mimicking the way my children called for me when they were potty training.   
  
She slowly lumbered into the small bathroom. "Now you can wash your hands. Warm water, rub for thirty seconds."   
  
I held up my hands to show her when I was done. Damn it, if they were going to treat me like a child, might as well act like one.   
  
"Alright. I'll call Officer O'Neil and have him take you back to your cell."   
  
"Thank you." 

* * *

 

  
I rubbed my arms to work out the soreness. I thought physical labor at 3CG would help me get my mind off Taylor, but every time I walked past his desk, I thought about him. He said he was going to clean his desk before his prison sentence started, but I guess he never got around to it. Empty coffee cups and crumpled receipts filled in spaces between notebooks and sticky notes. I wondered how Taylor was doing and what he was doing. I knew he would go crazy if all he had to do for a month was sit in a cell. I said another silent prayer for him. Maybe God would take care of my brother while I couldn't.

Chuck Berry's voice filled the space and I snatched up my phone, hoping it was Taylor. When I saw the name on the screen, I only accepted the call because I knew Taylor would want me to.

"Isaac, I need money." Natalie didn't bother with small talk. She didn't ask about Taylor or the family even though we had been her family for close to fifteen years. My Mom and sisters were always the first ones to offer when she needed help watching the kids.

"You still have full access to the joint bank account. Taylor made sure there was enough in it for you and the kids."

"Well, my debit card was declined. I assumed that he spent all the money to spite me."

"To spite you? Natalie, all he's talked about since you left was trying to get you to come back to Tulsa. He misses you and he misses his kids."

"My kids. Anyway, he is a convicted criminal. How is ever going to make money again?" I picked up on a slight whine in her voice.

"That's why you left? Because you were afraid he couldn't make money anymore?"

"Don't make it sound like that, Isaac. I have five kids to think about. I have to make sure they have food on the table and clothes. I've got to figure out somewhere for us to live. It's already getting cramped in my parents' house."

"You may have to make a few lifestyle adjustments, but Taylor will be more than able to take care of his family."

"No one is going to buy his records. All your little fan girls have this picture perfect idea of him, and he ruined it."

"Our fans have one thing you don't, Natalie."

"What is that?"

"Loyalty." I hung up.

"What did she want?" I hadn't realized Zac had come back into the studio. I thought he was outside with the truck.

"Money," I told him.

"Predictable. Are you going to send her any?"

"No. Let Natalie call the bank herself and figure it out."

"Good for you. Guess you aren't turning into a softy after all."

"Her parents will make sure the kids are taken care of. Do you think I want to lift a finger to make her life easier after she broke Taylor's heart? Has she really been playing all of us for 15 years?"

"I'd like to say no, for Taylor's sake if nothing else, but I've thought that for quite a while."

"I'm not going to tell Taylor."

"But you know he will ask about her. What will you say?"

"I don't know, Zac."

"When are you going to go visit?"

"I have to wait on the paperwork from him saying he wants me to come visit. Then I have to send it back to the prison and wait for an approval letter. Probably about a month."

Zac nodded. "I almost forgot why I came in. The truck is loaded. Do you have anything else to put in?"

"No, I'm good. I just have a few odds and ends I'm still deciding on, but I can take the rest in my car."

"Ok. Do you want to ride over to the storage building and help us unload, then?"

"Sure." I followed Zac to the loading area behind our studio. My sisters and parents were there, too.

"Clark Isaac!" My Mom said as soon as she saw me.

Zac and I looked at each other - full names are never good. "Yes, ma'm?"

"Natalie called. She said you and Taylor did something to the bank account so she can't get money out?"

"We didn't do anything to her card, Mom. She is grown, she can figure out what happened."

"She is trying to take care of your nieces and nephews. Don't you care about them?"

"Of course I do, Mom. I love them. But why isn't her family helping out?"

"I don't know, Isaac. You know they aren't as well off as we are. Maybe they aren't able to."

"Natalie has a damn trust fund! Why is she going after Taylor's money?"

"Because Taylor is still her husband and still has a responsibility to provide," Mom wasn't going to back down on this. She and Dad raised us with a strange mix of traditional and hippie values.

I glanced at my watch. "Ok. I should still have time to call the bank after we take this load to the storage house. I'll try to find out why they declined her debit card and wire her some money if I need to."

"Good. I'll call her right now and let her know."

"Fantastic." 

* * *

 

"I'm so tired," Avery said as we walked back into the studio. "I can't wait to take a shower and crash."

"We've all been working hard. Let's call it a night," Dad said. It had taken us a couple of hours to unload the truck, and even though it was cool outside, we'd all worked up a sweat.

"I need to find out what's going on with Taylor's bank account. I'm afraid the bank will close if I wait until I get home," Isaac said, already heading back toward his desk.

"You can go on. I'll stay and see if Isaac needs any help," I volunteered.

"We'll see you tomorrow, Zac?" Mom asked. I guess she wanted to make sure that I wasn't going to go back into hibernation again.

"Of course. We still have a lot to do."

My parents and sisters left. I put my hand on the back of Isaac's chair and handed him a bottle of water. He took it from me without comment, a look of sheer shock on his face.

"She took all the money." It turned out Natalie's card had been denied for insufficient funds. He scrolled the account summary screen up and down, as if that would somehow change the balance.  "How could she spend $50,000 in a month?"

"Negative one hundred dollars. Shit," I said.

"Natalie tried to withdraw from insufficient funds four times. Taylor got charged for each time."

"Are you going to call the bank? What can we do?"

"We can't do anything. That was a joint bank account, so she has just as much right to the money as he does. I'll have to put the $100 back in to cover the fees, but I guess I'll open up a separate bank account for just Taylor."

"He won't like that. Taylor hasn't even been in jail for a month. He must have had some idea of how much she was spending."

"Natalie will drain us dry if I don't."

"I bet she was just biding her time until Taylor gave her an excuse to leave."

"Maybe. Natalie has been part of this family so long, it's hard to imagine. She would have to be a really good actress," Isaac said.

"Maybe something changed. Maybe she got tired of the rock-n-roll lifestyle."

"True. It was a good plan. I mean, the chances Taylor would fuck up at some point . . ." I began

 "Thankfully Dad talked him into a prenup before they got married. She can't take the house or more than she needs to support the kids. That is still going to be a shit load of money, though." 

"We'll really have to step up the game with Hanson Day and producing albums. I mean, the screen says it all, Taylor is starting with a negative balance" I pointed out.    
  
"I know. Any ideas?"  
  
"I started on a few paintings. I thought I might increase the price of them a little at Hanson Day this year. If they don't sell the first day like they usually do, I'll drop the price."   
  
"You know, Taylor's prints always sell pretty well. I can get his camera tonight and see if he has anything for the gallery."   
  
"Plus there is always the three way split from online sales. That is usually at least a few thousand each a month. And if you need to put  mine in Taylor's account this month, go ahead. I don't need it."   
  
"Didn't your truck cost a lot to fix?

 "Insurance covered most of it. And I don't spend as much as you and Taylor. I could go for years without making any more money." 

"Ok. I'll just borrow it from you, though. I can put my online money in a bank account for him too. I hope I can get it open and his accounts switched over before anything drafts out."   
  
"If not, you'll just have to call and put a hold on the drafts."   
  
"Great. We just did all the talking to customer service shit when he gave me access to his accounts."   
  
"It's better than getting more overdraft fees."  
  
"I know."   
  
I put my hand on Isaac's shoulder. "I know you are the big brother here, but whatever you need me to do, I'll do. You've been carrying all of this by yourself for too long. Let me help you."   
  
Isaac stared at the negative balance on the screen for a few minutes before he closed his laptop. "Ok." 


	12. Betrayal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV: Taylor, Zac, Isaac (in that order)

I opened my eyes with the thought _today is the day._

My reward for passing the psych evaluation was a five minute phone call. I needed to talk to Isaac, to hear his voice. I missed Natalie too, but I had no idea of knowing if she would answer. I only got one attempt to dial out and I knew I could depend on my brother. Isaac would probably answer on the first ring.   
  
"Good Morning, Rockstar," O'Neil said his standard greeting just a bit too cheerfully.   
  
"Good Morning. When do I get my phone call?"  
  
"Anxious, are we? Missing the wifey?"   
  
"Something like that," O'Neil didn't need to know that I wanted to call my brother instead of my wife. My personal life, the parts that were still personal, were none of his damn business.   
  
"I have something that might change your mind." O'Neil didn't wait for an answer before he pulled up a YouTube video on his phone. I recognized the TMZ logo immediately.   
  
_"Hot in Hotlanta. Isaac Hanson gets friendly with his brother's wife. You may remember from an earlier report the MMMBoping former teen heartthrob Taylor Hanson is currently serving a 6 month jail sentence for embezzlement. Looks like Natalie is  keeping plenty busy while her husband is away."_  
  
The narration played over a video of Isaac and Natalie embracing in the Atlanta airport. I couldn't hear what she was saying, but she had her arms wrapped tight around him, her face buried in his chest. Isaac rubbed Natalie's back as he tried to console her. Isaac wasn't one to turn away from a crying woman, but even I had to admit they looked a little closer than  brother and sister in-law should. I felt my knees buckle when Natalie stood on her tiptoes to kiss Isaac. I saw movement on the left side of the frame, I thought maybe it was Zac, just before the clip ended.   
  
"This isn't real," I said the first thing that came to mind. But I knew the screen clip had to be my brother and my wife. I could just barely make out the thin scar, from an emergency surgery back in 2007, on Isaac's forearm. Natalie wore a dress she bought the last time I took her to Paris.   
  
"Of course it's real," O'Neil said.  "Are you ready to make your phone call?"  
  
The walk to the phone room seemed to take forever. So many thoughts swirled through my mind. _Isaac couldn't have. He wouldn't. He did before. To Zac. But Zac wasn't married. There were no kids involved. But if Isaac didn't, that means Natalie did. Either my brother or my wife betrayed me._  
  
"Shit," I said outloud  
  
"That's . . . "   
  
"I know 20 minutes." Over the last several days, I'd lost about a month's worth of outside time for "using language."    
  
I used a minute of my phone time staring at the beige phone in the tiny booth. _Isaac wears his heart on his sleeve._ If I call him, I could probably tell by the sound of his voice if he was lying or not. With Natalie, I could never tell. She never told big lies, just underestimated how much she'd spent on clothes. But she always looked nice and so did our kids, so I can't honestly say that was money wasted.   
  
"Either get on the phone or get up, Hanson," O'Neil ordered.   
  
"Just trying to remember the number," I lied. We had the same cell phone numbers for years. By some miracle of Rock N' Roll, the more enthusiastic fans never got a hold of them.   
  
Zac picked up on the third ring. The voice over wasted another minute of my time.   
  
"An inmate at Jim E Hamilton Correctional Facility wants to contact you. You will not be charged for this call. The inmate's account will be debited. To accept this call, press 1. To decline this call, press 2. To block all calls from this inmate, press 3."   
  
I heard a loud beep on my end, then "Taylor?"  
  
"Hi, Zac. I don't have long. I just need to know if it's true."   
  
"Is what true?"  
  
"I saw the TMZ clip."   
  
"Oh." Zac didn't say anything for several seconds.   
  
"Oh God. It is true. I never thought Isaac . . ." I felt like the world and everything in it was crashing down around me. The room started to spin and I gripped the side of the phone booth to keep from sliding out of my chair.    
  
"No, Taylor. Isaac doesn't have anything going on with Natalie. She set it all up."   
  
"Why didn't you say so?"   
  
"Because I know how much you love her. Natalie set this up as a no-win for you."   
  
"I don't know whether to be relieved Isaac didn't betray me or pissed that Natalie did."   
  
"It's okay to be a little bit of both."   
  
O'Neil pointed to his wrist. "Zac, I've got to go. Give everyone my love."   
  
"I will. Taylor?"

 "Yeah?" 

"We are all thinking about you. Mom prays for you three times a day."  
  
O'Neil started tapping his wrist. "Tell her to double it," I said before I hung up. 

* * *

 

  
"Tell me everything Taylor said again," Isaac demanded. He stopped hammering in the new sound board to look at me.

"He told me he saw the clip,"

"And you told him I had nothing to do with it, right?"

"Yes, Isaac."

"Thank goodness. I still can't believe she just ambushed us like that."

My mind went back to two days before. Natalie convinced Isaac that she was ready come back to Tulsa, so we flew to Atlanta under the pretense of helping her drive back. After what she pulled with the checking account, we both wanted to keep an eye on her. I'd been praying that Taylor wouldn't have access to TMZ in prison, but I guess bad news travels even through prison walls.

"OMG! ZAAAAAAAAC!" _Oh shit._ A group of fans ran toward me almost as soon as Isaac and I stepped off the plane at the Atlanta airport.

"Hi!" I turned around and gave them my best "sweet Zac" smile. We needed to keep as many fans on our side as possible.

"Can we have a picture? Oh, Hi Isaac." Isaac waved at them, then signaled to me he was going to go on to the baggage claim area.

"Of course," All fans were starting to look the same to me - a Hanson t-shirt of some sort, overweight, unkempt hair and Toms shoes. Sometimes I hated them. It took about ten minutes to take pictures with them all, and I hurried to catch up with Isaac.

_What is Natalie doing here? We were to meet her at her parents' in the morning._ I stopped a moment to see if I could figure out what was going on. By the time I did, it was too late.

"Isaac! Oh Isaac, it's all been so horrible." Natalie rushed over to my brother, tears streaming down her face. As Isaac reached his arms around her to console her, a TMZ camera crew came out from behind an empty kiosk like a disturbed hornets' nest.

"Does your brother know you have a relationship with his wife?"

"How long has this been going on?"

"Do the kids know? Are all of Taylor's kids really his?"

"What? I'm not . . ." I could tell my brother was blindsided. He thought of Natalie as one of the family, of course he would console her if she was upset.

"We have the evidence right here," the reporter said. As if to prove his point, Natalie wrapped her arms around Isaac even tighter and kissed him.

"Give him another one!" the reporter said, directing his cameraman to a better angle.

"Vultures! All of you," I stepped in.

"How do you feel about this, Zac? Did you know?" The reporter turned to me.

"You are interfering in family business. Go away!" I said.

Isaac gently unwound Natalie's arm from his neck. "No," he said, not wanting to cause more of a scene. People were already gathering. Isaac took a few steps away from Natalie.

"You don't love me anymore?" Natalie said to Isaac with a pout.

Isaac shook his head. "Zac, can you . . . " He gestured to the crowd and TMZ crew. "I'll go book us on the next flight home."

"Sounds like an excellent plan."

"I thought we were going home?" Natalie said to me, still keeping up her act.

I ignored her question and addressed the TMZ reporter "It will take me 30 seconds to get my lawyer on the phone. You all should probably be packed up by then."

"I think we have everything we need," he replied. "Mrs. Hanson, thank you for your assistance."

I waited until I saw the red light on the camera go off. "How much money did you make off that little charade?" I asked Natalie.

Her lips twisted into a smile. "Enough. For now."

"What if this gets back to Taylor?"

"I'm counting on it."

"I want those tapes. Whatever they offered you, I'll double it."

"No deal. Taylor left me with five kids to feed. Isaac told me to make my own money. This is the only way I know how."

"I'm sure your parents have connections here. You can get a job. Besides, Taylor left you with more than enough money. It isn't his fault you spent it already."

"And what would I do with my children while I'm working? It would cost as much to send them to daycare as I would make. You forget, I only have a high school education and no work experience."

"You know full well you have almost unlimited free babysitters in Tulsa."

"Then we can go back? I miss my house."

"Not after this little stunt. I don't want you anywhere near my business or my family."

Natalie waved her wedding ring in front of my face. "I am your family."

"That doesn't take long to fix." Isaac walked up with the plane tickets in his hand. "Our flight leaves in an hour. The line at security is pretty long. Are you ready?"

"Yep." I adjusted my backpack over my shoulder and followed Isaac upstairs to the check in point without so much as a goodbye to Natalie.

 

* * *

  
"For the third time, Mr. Hanson, Inmate 452821 isn't allowed phone privileges at this time."

"But he was able to speak with my brother," I explained to the assistant warden. I knew that Taylor would take Natalie's betrayal hard. I hadn't slept at all the night before. I called the prison first thing and had been on the phone with them for at least an hour. The first thirty minutes I was transferred to at least ten different people.

"It may have been a special arrangement with his processing officer," she replied.

"Then make another special arrangement. I need to talk to him."

I was desperate.

She sighed. "Can you testify to a legitimate family emergency?"

Finally, the loophole. "Of course I can. His marriage is ending."

"Sir, do you know how many divorce papers we get in every day? The phone lines would be jammed if we let every inmate call his wife. I'm sure she is better off without him."   
  
"He is the best thing that ever happened to her. I'd like to speak with your supervisor now."   
  
"My supervisor is the warden. He is a very busy man."   
  
"So am I," I had already ignored three incoming calls while I was on the phone. I hadn't even had time to get dressed.   
  
"Hold, please," she said.   
  
I reheated my last bit of coffee while I waited. I was just wondering if I would have time to take a shower while I was on hold when the assistant warden came back on the line.   
  
"Mr. Hanson?"  
  
"I'm here."    
  
"Inmate 452821 is eating breakfast. He has orders from our staff doctor not to skip meals. I'm very sorry, but it is impossible for you to speak to him."   
  
"Doctor's orders? Why? What's wrong?"  
  
"I cannot release any information until his paperwork is completed. And I cannot release medical information at all. Have a good day."   
  
"Fuck it," I said to the dial tone. I paced around my house trying to get the tension out. Not only was I pissed at Natalie, I was worried about Taylor. I was also worried about Taylor's kids. What lies had Natalie told them? And what were these doctor's orders about? Taylor had always been skinny, but he also always had a healthy appetite. Even with the few pounds he'd put on the last few years, losing weight was one thing my brother did not need to do.   
  
I hated fighting the red tape. I'd seen enough bureaucracy at work these last few weeks to last a lifetime. I could not wait until Taylor was out of there. Only a few more days until Taylor was done with processing. The black x's on my calendar were getting closer to the big red circle I'd placed over his 30th day. I'd also marked each visiting day between then and the very last red circle, the one over his release date -  May 11th, just in time for Hanson Day weekend. Which reminded me, Zac I had done hardly any planning for May's Hanson Day. I received a few PMs from fans asking if we were still planning on having it. We still had a few months until we needed to get the details out, though. And it wasn't like we hadn't done the event before.   
  
My phone rang again. Avery was calling for the fourth time.   
  
"Hello?"

"Isaac? You need to come down to the studio right away."   
  
"Why? What's wrong?"   
  
"Just come down and see for yourself." I thought I heard sirens in the background right before the call disconnected.   
  
All thoughts of taking a shower vanished. I stuffed myself into a clean(er) pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Sitting around the office wasn't doing me any favors. Thoughts of what might be going on at the studio rushed through my mind. The twenty minute drive seemed endless. When I arrived, I had to park down the street. My usual parking place was blocked by police cars.   
  
"What happened?" I asked of the first officer I saw. He glanced up from his notepad.   
  
"I"m sorry. I can't release any information."  
  
"I am the owner of this building and this business. You had damned well better start releasing information," I didn't mean to be so sharp with him, but my brain wasn't ready to jump through any more hoops for bureaucracy's sake.   
  
"Oh. I didn't realize. My chief has been waiting to speak with you. Please follow me."   
  
The door to 3CG hadn't been forced open, but the inside was a mess. Desk drawers lay open, the contents dumped on the floor. There wasn't a chair that hadn't been torn to shreds. The makeshift partitions we had put up in preparation for producing albums were in pieces on the floor.   
  
"Mr. Hanson? I'm Chief Austin," the police chief held out his hand.  
  
I accepted his hand shake. "Do you have any idea what happened?" I wasn't an expert, but I knew if the police chief was involved, they must think things were pretty serious.   
  
"We were hoping you could tell us. From the looks of it, someone was searching for something in here. An employee," he paused to look at his notes "Avery reported it this morning."   
  
"Avery is my sister. She called me as well. This is the first I've heard about it."   
  
"One of my detectives is questioning her now. What would someone go to all this trouble to look for? Do you have any idea?"  
  
I felt like I had stepped into a crime show. I thought for a moment before I answered the officer. "Well, I think our fans would want anything we'd put our hands on. We used to keep some sentimental things around, memorabilia, old tour posters and such, but most of that has been moved to a storage building."  
  
"Where is the building located?"   
  
"Not far. Max's storage, by the railroad tracks before you get to the interstate."   
  
In response, Chief Austin ordered three officers to go to the storage house to investigate and stay to provide security.   
  
"Once the media gets wind of this, which will probably be about 10  minutes after your neighbors open up shop, this will become a high profile case. I have a request to the judge to make this a closed crime scene, but unfortunately, that might hinder your business. I'll need you to sign off on the request."   
  
"How long will it be closed?"

"Until the investigation is over. Could be months."   
  
I shook  my head. Too much was riding on the next few months for our offices to be out of commission. "I can't agree to that."   
  
"You realize this place will be a media frenzy if you don't agree."   
  
"I know. But I need to have access to my office. Maybe my lawyer can work out something?"   
  
"Lawyers. Hindering due process since the Revolution."   
  
"And they cost too damn much," I said, earning a chuckle from the chief.  "Still, I've got to run my business. We have a major event coming up in May."   
  
"We'll see what we can work out. Are you able to do anything from home? I might be able to get tech to rush your computers through inspection so you can at least take those home."   
  
"That sounds fair enough. Thankfully our engineer talked us into backing up most of our files on the cloud, so I can access them from anywhere."   
  
"Well, sounds like we have the workings of plan," Chief Austin produced a business card. "If you think of anything, or hear anything through the grapevine, please give me a call. I'll also need your contact information."   
  
I jotted the information down on his notebook. "Now what?"   
  
"Now we need to get back to our investigation. I'll need you and your employees to vacate the premises at least until the preliminary investigation is finished. I'll let you know when you can pick up your computers. I don't have a court order for it yet, but if you could avoid speaking to the media about this . . ."   
  
"I understand. We don't usually go looking to get them involved."   
  
"I try to avoid them myself." He offered his hand. I shook it and took my cue to leave.   
  
I walked down the alley behind our studio to a coffee shop a few blocks away. I called Zac and let him know not to bother coming to the offices today. He was just as shocked as I was, although I had to wonder why Avery didn't call Zac after she couldn't get in touch with me. Maybe she was just in shock. At any rate, we were all going to meet up at our parents' house this afternoon to discuss things.   
  
My cell phone range when I was about halfway through my third cup of coffee. I didn't recognize the number.   
  
"I'm calling for Isaac Hanson, please."   
  
"Speaking."

"Isaac, David Bryant."   
  
_Fuck. Not Natalie again._  
  
"What can I do for you, sir?"

"Just wanted to ask you if Natalie has moved back to Tulsa. Her mom and I haven't seen her for a few days."   
  
_Oh. Shit._


	13. General Population

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV: Taylor, Isaac, Zac

"Have a good weekend, Rockstar?" O'Neil didn't even knock on my cell door before he opened it. It didn't really matter, his heavy footsteps  and key in the lock gave him away every time.   
  
"Not as good as yours, I'm sure."   
  
"You got that right. Took my wife into OKC. Showed her a real good time."   
  
"Glad to hear it." I'd spent the weekend in my cell, counting the ceiling tiles. On the weekends, my meals were delivered to my cell. I picked out what was edible and at least attempted to eat some of the more questionable items. It was a mind over matter project, but I think I managed to eat enough to avoid another trip to the medical building.   
  
"Today is the day. Get your stuff, you're going to general pop."   
  
My "stuff" consisted of the small toiletry bag provided on my first day. Had it been a month? It seemed like yesterday and forever ago all at the same time. I started to gather up my towel and sheets, but O'Neil motioned for me to leave them.   
  
It had turned significantly colder outside, but the fresh air still felt nice as we walked along a sidewalk that connected several buildings toward the back of the prison. What month was it? December? Did I miss Isaac's birthday? It wasn't so much that I forgot, but I had no way to track the days. After the first few, they all started running together. I only knew it was the weekend when I didn't see O'Neil for 2 days.   
  
O'Neil pointed to the area of grass in the center of the buildings. Inmates were engaged in various games and activities on the lawn. "That is our recreation area. We have sports you can play as well as some workout equipment. You get an hour of outside time a day. You can take it all at once or break it into two thirty minute sessions. I'll have to add up how much you lost during processing, but don't expect it start for at least another two weeks."   
  
  
I nodded to keep myself from cussing. Stepping outside even for a few minutes helped me remember how much I loved being outdoors. Even   
though I thought the prison rules were ridiculous, I was going to try to obey them so I could spend as much time as possible outside.   
  
"Officer O'Neil?"   
  
"Yes?" He seemed pleased I'd addressed him correctly.   
  
"What about when the weather turns colder? Is outside time eliminated?"   
  
"We expect grown men to use their best judgment. We'll tell you the temperature each morning and let you decide if you want to go out. For sudden severe weather, we'll sound an alarm. Here is your dorm."   
  
The dorm was simply a room with 8 bunk beds lining either side. Each bunk bed had two small lockers positioned by it. There was a small counter with a sink and microwave on one end of the room. The other end led to two smaller rooms that I assumed were the showers and toilets.   
  
O'Neil walked to a bunk towards the middle of the left side. "This is yours," he said, patting the bottom bed. Two towels and a fresh jumpsuit were folded on the end of the mattress. O'Neil handed me a folder. "Your locker combination is in there. You should have fresh sheets inside the locker. Also, a review of general dorm rules and Dorm C procedures and schedules."   
  
I took the folder without saying anything. The room was loud with chatter, but no one seemed to notice me. Even the guards were preoccupied with their notes. I came from a five bedroom house and now this tiny little bed was my only personal space for the next five months. I had more room in my bed on the bus.   
  
O'Neil didn't hang around. He walked over to one of the guards and pointed to me. The guard nodded and noted something on his clipboard. I hoped that I could just spend the next months in peace. I think being O'Neil's only assignment, he focused too much on me. That was the only reason I could figure for his attitude.   
  
The vinyl covered mattress made a noise every time I moved. I glanced over the information in the folder, but I got bored. I looked around the room. A few of the inmates were reading or writing letters. Many were hanging off the edge of their bunks to talk to their neighbors.   
  
"Dorm C for breakfast," crackled over the loudspeaker. My dorm mates rushed for the door. Instead of joining in the fray, I waited until the line was mostly formed before taking my place at the end.   
  
"Newbies go last," a hand gripped my shoulder and pushed me toward the back of the line. The hand belonged to a set of biceps attached to a giant of an inmate.   
  
A few people had lined up behind me, so I walked to take my place behind them. I certainly wasn't going to get into a fight the first day.   
  
We walked in a single file line to the cafeteria. It reminded me of the year my brothers and I went to a private school. Even as kids, we didn't like conforming to arbitrary rules.   
  
The smell of eggs was overpowering, but I didn't say anything as the watery yellow concoction was spooned onto my tray. I followed the rest of the Dorm C line to a table.   
  
"No." The same arm that had pushed me in line blocked me from sitting at the table. "You sit at the end."   
  
I walked to the farthest side of the table and sat in a broken chair. I guessed The Giant was the inmate leader of sorts for our dorm. My dorm mates were digging into their breakfast like it was their last meal. I picked at my eggs and managed to eat some toast and a banana.   
  
"Do you mind?" The inmate sitting across from me motioned to my eggs with his fork.   
  
"Go ahead."   
  
He slid my tray over and devoured the eggs in two minutes flat.   
  
"You like those?"   
  
"I'm used to them. Here," he handed me his toast. "I'm not really huge on bread."   
  
"Thanks. I'm Taylor, by the way."   
  
"I know who you are, Hanson. But last names here. Unless you like it from behind. I'm Witt."   
  
"That really happens?"   
  
"Some. Just be careful. You did the right thing with Big Johnson. He's pretty much the boss, unless a guard tells you something different. Even then, tread carefully."   
  
"Big Johnson?"   
  
"Well, his last name is Johnson. And, look at him," Witt pointed to The Giant.   
  
I nodded. "Good to know. I'm not planning to cause any trouble."   
  
"Folks don't always plan to. I've got to go. I'm on grounds cleanup with a few of the other guys. You'll probably get your job assignment today."   
  
Witt stood up to put away his tray and walked toward a few other inmates standing near a guard.   
  
"Hanson?" the guard I saw in the dorm earlier was standing by the door. I quickly put away my tray and walked over to him. "I'm Officer Jacobs. I'm the lead guard for Dorm C. You've been assigned to kitchen duty. You'll help prepare and clean for lunch and dinner. They are ready for you now. I'll show you where to go."   
  
I followed Officer Jacobs through a door labeled "Kitchen Staff Only." 5 other inmates were already at a metal table putting together sandwiches for lunch. The smell of cheap lunch meat filled the air and I almost gagged.   
  
"You have someone new for me?" An older black lady walked toward us.   
  
"This is Inmate Hanson, Ms. Viola. He'll be here for the next few months."   
  
"Just long to enough to learn what you're doing. Alright, the fruit needs to be washed. Once you get done with that, you can peel the potatoes for dinner," Ms. Viola pointed to a ridiculous amount of potatoes piled on top of a stainless steel table.   
  
"I can do that," I said, even though I was sure if I had to peel the potatoes by myself dinner wouldn't be ready until midnight.   
  
"Aprons are on the wall. Wash your hands and get started. Lunch service starts at 11 on the dot."   
  
"Yes, Ma'm."   
  
My hands were wrinkled from the water when I put the last clean apple in the serving tray. I dried my hands and walked over to start on the potatoes. I had only been working on them a few minutes when Ms. Viola called "Lunch time, helpers!"   
  
She pulled a pan out of the oven and a smell that reminded me of home filled the room. Ms. Viola lifted the foil to reveal roast beef with carrots and potatoes. "I take care of my helpers," she told me. "It near about breaks my heart to serve that slimy meat. I suggested some improvements once and I got SPAM for a month."   
  
"It was awful," one of the other helpers said, his mouth already full. "I think it was expired."   
  
"Grab a plate and dig in, honey. You can see the good stuff doesn't last a long time around here."   
  
"Wow," I said when I took a breath between bites. Ms.  Viola's roast beef was as good as my Mom's. Maybe better.

 "I'm glad you like it. Be good to me, I'll be good to you. You all have about 5 minutes before you have to be on the line."

  
"The line?"   
  
"We prep, serve, clean, then prep again. Another group gets the tail end of dinner prep, dinner service and clean up," another inmate explained.   
  
"I think that's fair. Considering the perks," I pointed to my empty plate.   
  
"About that . . . If you want it to keep on, keep it on the DL,"   
  
"No problem," I said.   
  
"Okay, helpers. Line time!" Ms. Viola handed me a pair of gloves and hairnet before she ushered me to a spot on the serving line. "One sandwich each, no seconds," she instructed.   
  
"Yes, m'am."   
  
I got the rhythm of serving pretty quickly, and it sure beat laying around in a jail cell all day. Before I knew it, the last person was through the line and Ms. Viola was calling us to pull all the food off the line so we could clean a bit before dinner prep.   
  
"Alright, I need 3 of you on dishes, and the rest can finish peeling and slicing the potatoes."   
  
"Hanson, you can be on dish duty with me and Mason today. We rotate out, so tomorrow after lunch we'll be on prep. I'm Phillips, by the way."   
  
"Sounds like you have a good system."   
  
"KP duty gets a bad rap, but at least we aren't out in the sun all day. And Ms. V and Ms. L take care of us."   
  
"Who is Ms. L?"

 "Ms. V's shift ends at two. Ms. Laura comes in to do the dinner prep. She takes care of us like Ms. Viola does," Mason explained. 

My mouth watered at the thought of more homecooked food. "I can't wait to meet her." 

 

* * *

 

  
  
My canvas was a mess of green splatters. I'd been randomly dotting my paintbrush over the canvas because I couldn't think of anything to paint. Taylor was all I could think about, but I didn't want to paint a picture of my brother behind bars. I had half a mind to just leave the painting as it was. Some fan would buy it, even if I put a hefty price tag on it. 

  
"Fuck it," I carried my paintbrushes to the sink and washed them out. I watched the paint swirl around in the basin, leaving faint stains in my sink before it finally went down the drain. Maybe tomorrow Isaac and I could go through Taylor's pictures to see what we could use for the gallery. Hopefully I would get some inspiration from his pictures for my painting. 

  
I never imagined I would miss Taylor so much. To be honest, most of my life I longed to get out from under his control. It seemed he was always trying to reign me in when all I wanted was freedom to be myself. "Don't be so hyper, Zac." "Don't write such silly songs, Zac."  "Zac, you're late."  

  
My apartment was getting lonely. After tour and promo heavy days, I'm thankful for the peace and quiet of my own space. But with everything put on hold, I was getting bored wandering back and forth between my bedroom and living room. The Philbrook Museum had a special art exhibit going on, maybe I would check that out. At least it would be something to get my mind off Taylor and Natalie and the whole break in mess at 3CG. 

  
"Zac!" I stopped with my hand on my truck door and turned toward Natalie's voice. 

  
"What?" I leaned against the hood of my truck, arms crossed. 

  
"I need help."

  
"Glad you decided to tell the truth." 

  
Natalie rolled her eyes. "I want to move back home, but the lights at my house are off." 

  
" _Taylor_ turned off the electricity at _his_ house to save money." 

  
"Why didn't he give me the authority to turn them back on?"

  
"I don't know. I think Isaac was helping with all of that stuff."

  
"Isaac won't talk to me."

  
"Well, isn't that a surprise." 

  
"So you won't help me?"

  
"Not after what you did to Isaac and Taylor. Taylor found out, you know." 

  
Natalie smiled. "Of course he did. I made sure of it." 

  
How dare she try and make Taylor's situation worse? "WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO?"  I saw my neighbors look up when I raised my voice but I didn't care. This bitch was messing with my brother and I was not going to stand for it. 

  
"Lets just say prison guards are all to happy to make a little extra money." 

  
"What? How did you get money to bribe a prison guard when you come whining to me and Isaac that you don't have enough money to feed your kids?"

  
Her eyes sparkled. I never knew Natalie could be so devious. She winked at me. "I figured it out. In fact, my contact at the prison is all too happy to make Taylor's time in prison a living hell." 

  
"Why, Natalie? All he's ever done was to try and make you happy. He embezzled the funds for you. Don't you realize that? What could you possibly gain from making his time in prison worse?" 

  
"Nothing except the satisfaction that when he does get out, he'll know exactly how good he has it with me." 

  
"Natalie, you already have him wrapped around your finger."

  
"And I need to make sure it stays that way. I wouldn't want him to get the thought that he doesn't need me. Sure, he can hire someone to cook and clean and babysit the kids, but he won't be able to live without me." 

  
"I don't think that thought ever crossed his mind." 

  
"Yes it did. We got in a fight a few weeks before he was arrested. He threatened to leave me." 

  
"People say things when they are angry. Natalie, you know that." 

  
"Don't tell me about my husband." 

  
"He's been my brother longer than he's been your husband. Even Taylor says things he doesn't mean. He won't ever leave you. You are his world." 

  
"And I intend to keep it that way. No matter what." Natalie's phone buzzed. 

  
"That's Avery. She's been watching the kids for me. I've got to go pick them up, but I have no idea where to take them." 

  
I sighed. Damn her using the kids as leverage. "If you can't think of anything else, bring them back here. I'll call Isaac and see about getting the lights turned on back at your house." 

  
I know Natalie thought she'd won. I could see her grin even after she'd gotten back into her SUV. The minute her tail lights disappeared around the corner, I called Isaac. 

  
"Ike? Do you still have the number for the police chief?"

  
"Yes, what's wro. . ." 

  
"Tell him to get over to my apartment." 

  
"Why?" 

  
"Natalie just showed up. She'll be back here with the kids in a bit. I think that the chief would like to talk to her about the break in." 

  
"And you want all that to happen in front of  Taylor's kids?"

  
He had a point. I thought for a minute. "Just tell the chief to come close. When Natalie gets here, I'll take the kids out somewhere, then you can have him come over and question her." 

  
"Sounds like a plan." 

 

* * *

 

  
"What are we going to tell Taylor about Natalie? And the break in?" Zac asked. He had been quiet for most of the ride down to the prison. When the letter came that let us know Taylor could finally have visitors, I'd made plans to go to the prison on the very next visiting day. I was anxious to see Taylor and make sure he was okay. I hadn't heard from him outside of what Zac told me from their brief phone call.  It was nice to have the company for the ride, but I wished I could talk to Taylor alone. 

  
"I don't know. I hope he doesn't ask," I replied.  

  
"He's going to ask, Isaac." 

  
"As much as I don't want to hurt Taylor and make this any harder on him, I think the truth is the best way to go. I think he will just end up hurt more in the long run if we lie to him." 

  
"I think you're right. Oh, is that it?" The gray fence of the prison came into view. "But the brochure said this was more of a rehabilitation camp." 

  
"The brochure lied. I guess they just print them up to make families feel better." I pulled into the parking lot. 

  
Zac jumped out of my car as soon as I stopped. I took a moment or two to gather my things while Zac stretched. "Keep moving!" A voice boomed overhead. 

  
"Alright, alright," I said, sure that no one could hear me. "Make sure you stay on the sidewalk, they get crabby about that, too," I said to Zac. 

  
"Poor Taylor," I heard Zac say. 

  
There were more people waiting than I expected. The noise of everyone talking echoed off the concrete and bounced back into the room. There was a line of people going through the metal detectors and another group of visitors waiting. We signed the book and sat in the waiting area. 

  
"Visitors for Hanson?" A guard called after only a few minutes.

  
"Hey! We were here first" A woman with stringy, bleach blond hair started to approach the guard. 

  
The guard didn't respond, but motioned Zac and I to follow him. 

  
"Just cause they are in a band!!" I heard her say.

  
The guard took us to a small room behind the front desk. 

  
"I need to see your IDs, please." 

  
He scrutinized our cards then handed them back to us. "And your relationship to Inmate Hanson?"

  
"We are his brothers," I said.

  
The guard checked his paperwork. "Ok. You're authorized." 

  
"Why wouldn't we be?"

 

"You would not believe the number of people we've had trying to visit Inmate Hanson claiming to be his sister or his wife. Only people on his approved list are allowed to visit."   
  
"I think we would believe it, actually."   
  
"Yeah, I guess you would. Alright, have a seat in the waiting area. You'll be called through security in the order you checked in."   
  
We waited another 15 minutes before we were called to go through the metal detectors. The line moved slowly. Zac shuffled impatiently behind me. Ladies took forever to remove their huge earrings and complicated bracelets. Even some of the men took their time removing items from their pockets. My younger brother was prone to forgetting that most people weren't used to going through security on a regular basis.   
  
After we finally got through, we followed the line to a room with vending machines along one wall and tables scattered around the room. The sign posted on the wall stated no PDA allowed, only one brief hug at the beginning and end of the visit.   
  
I guess we both looked a little lost, because a guard told us to have a seat at a table and Taylor would come to us.   
  
I'm sure it wasn't longer than 5 minutes, but the wait for Taylor seemed to take forever.   
  
He looked as good as anyone can look in a prison uniform. His jumpsuit fit better than the one at the county prison and he looked clean. That was the last word I'd expect to use to describe an inmate, especially my brother, but at least he hadn't let his hygiene go.   
  
Taylor noticeably relaxed when I hugged him, but I was careful not to keep my arms around him too long. There weren't any signs that defined how long a "brief hug" was supposed to be.   
  
"I'm sorry," Taylor and Zac both said at the same time, then hugged quickly before they sat.   
  
"Well?" Zac started off the visit.   
  
"It isn't horrible. It was when I first got here, but since I've been in general population, I've managed to stay under the radar."

 

"What happened at first?"

 

"The guard that was in charge of my in-processing basically did everything he could to make things more difficult for me. He was the one that showed me the video of you and Natalie."  
  
"Taylor, that wasn't . . ." I started   
  
Taylor put his hand up. "I know. Have you heard from my kids?"

 

"Natalie is back at your house."   
  
Taylor's eyes lit up, then his entire face broke into a smile. "She came home? How long has she been there?"   
  
Zac looked at me, questioning if he should tell Taylor any more. "Taylor." The tone in Zac's voice wiped the smile from Taylor's face.   
  
"What's wrong?"   
  
"Are you really going to go back to her after she set up Isaac? Betrayed you?"  
  
"If she can forgive me, I can forgive her. It's only fair."   
  
I knew I had to tell him. "Natalie broke into the studio. Or hired someone to do it. When the police questioned her about it, she refused to talk to them without a lawyer. Also, that guard? The one that mistreated you? Natalie paid him off."  
  
Taylor didn't say anything, but his face flushed and I knew he was trying not to cry. It was all I could do to keep myself from wrapping my arms around him. I gave his hand a quick squeeze.  
  
"Didn't you read the rules?" I jumped at the sound of the guard's voice behind me.   
  
"Show me both of your hands. Now." He demanded. Taylor and I complied.   
  
"I don't see any contraband, but the visit is over. You two come with me. Inmate, return to your dorm."   
  
Taylor followed the guard's instructions without hesitation. We didn't even get to say goodbye.   
  
"Visiting privileges suspended for a month," the guard told us. "Next time, keep your hands to yourself."   
  
I didn't say a word until we were in the parking lot. I felt my voice catch in my throat as I handed the keys to Zac and asked him to drive us back to Tulsa.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     



	14. Stitches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV: Zac, Taylor  
> This was originally 1 chapter, so I didn't forget about Isaac. You'll hear from him next chapter.

"Zac, just make the call. We can't just sit around waiting for Isaac to make a decision," Avery said. My sister pointed to the past-due equipment invoice on my desk. 

"He was doing so good with the business, though. Ike needs something to focus on besides Taylor," I replied. Isaac had done a great job of leading the business in Taylor's absence, but ever since we got slammed with visiting restrictions, Isaac could barely concentrate. I'd been handling things as best I could, but I felt like I was going behind his back. Not to mention that fact that I was much better at manual labor than accounting. Isaac and Taylor were blessed with the negotiating skills. 

"You are the only 3CG CEO of sound mind right now. What is going to happen when fans show up for Hanson Day and you don't have the right equipment to set the up the gallery or the concert? You know as well as I do that HDay is the best chance of getting Taylor's fines paid off. Not to mention ensuring that your paid staff members don't become volunteers." 

"Okay, I'll call them today and get it taken care of. I need to call Isaac, though." 

"Call me about what?" Isaac asked. He picked up the invoice and frowned. 

"Just wanted to keep you in the loop about business decisions, that's all." Avery said, before rushing off to answer the phone. 

"Oh. Well I'm sure you are doing just fine. This does need to be paid, though. The equipment prices have gone up from last year. The paperwork should be in our files. Sorry I haven't been around more. I can't seem to get motivated. We got a letter from Taylor. Do you want me to read it?" 

I nodded and Isaac launched right into it.

_Isaac,_

_Christmas is next week. Do you still remember where I put the presents for the kids? One of the guys in here told me that folks from a local church bring us Christmas dinner. I know it still won't be the same as spending it with you, but every day that passes, even Christmas, is one day closer to being home. The plans for Hanson Day sound good. What kind of response have we gotten so far? If you don't find enough pictures on my camera to use for the gallery, try my phone and computer. Make sure you make some bigger prints, too. They sell well and you can charge more for them._

_If it isn't too much trouble, please put some money in my account so I can buy a few t-shirts from the canteen. I'm allowed to wear them when I'm in my dorm. Once the weather turned colder, they turned the heat up full blast in here. No drama, nothing to report, except I miss you all and can't wait to be home._

_Love,_

_Taylor_

"I wonder if he got his Christmas meal after all?"  I asked once Isaac finished. It was after the New Year, but Taylor's letters took weeks to arrive.

 "I hope so. I'll put money in his account first thing in the morning. I wonder how much t-shirts there cost? I'll just send a couple hundred so he'll have it in case there is anything else he needs. He should be able to start making phone calls soon."

 "And we can go back and try to visit him as well. Let me look up the stats Taylor wanted so you can let him know." Isaac never got around to setting a date for Hanson Day, so by time I took over, Cain's only had the last weekend in May available. We decided to extend the usual weekend event into Monday to encompass the Memorial Day Holiday. After all, the more time our fans spent in Tulsa, the more money they would spend, hopefully on us.

 "Looks like we have about 1000 RSVPs so far. Lecture tickets are sold out, and dinner tickets are close to selling out already," I told Isaac.

 "Nice. I think the apology letter I posted on H.net from Taylor helped ease the sting of no more band a lot."

 "I think it did, too. I've already gotten PM's from fans asking us to produce their band's first record."

 "Do we really want to start down that path?"

 "Well, if we can't get enough business from legitimate bands, it's an option. At least we know that they would pay for it."

 "Zac! I can't believe you said that."

 "Do you want Taylor back in prison for five years? Isn't it good to at least have a Plan B?"

 "What have you been saying to them?"

 "I'm letting them know that we aren't ruling any bands out quite yet, however we already have a waiting list."

 "We do?"

 "A list of bands I've been waiting to call until the rest of our equipment gets delivered."

"I don't like that at all, Zac. Lying to our fans?"

 "I'm not lying. Would you rather me tell them that I think their band sucks and they are just coming up with shit to get close to us?"

 "Well, no," Isaac replied.

 "Then it's settled. You take care of Taylor and I'll take care of the business." I didn't want to hurt my older brother, but it needed to be said. Somebody had to keep things going.

 Isaac exhaled and it looked like a weight had fallen off his shoulders. "Thanks, Zac. That would help a lot."

* * *

"Are you trying to cut in line, Hanson?" 

"Oh no, I'm sorry." I was so tired from my shift working in the kitchen, I hadn't noticed I wasn't all the way in the back of the line from dinner. 

"We keep having this problem. Your place is in the back," Big Johnson said to me. 

"Ok, I'll go," I said. As I brushed past him, I felt a stinging pain slice down the underside of my arm.  I tried to cover the blood flow with my hand, but the cut was pretty deep. I glanced up at Big Johnson and saw him grin as he hid a flash of silver in his uniform. 

"Everything okay, Hanson?" My dorm guard asked. 

"Fine. I must have caught my arm on a rough edge somewhere," I lied. 

"Medical building. Follow me." 

The guard rapped on the door to the small clinic. "Yes?" Patricia opened the door just a crack. 

"Inmate has an arm injury. He is claiming an accident." 

Patricia rolled her eyes, "You'll have to wait until sick call. My shift is almost over." 

"I still need you to look at it and fill out the accident report," The guard said. 

"Patricia, I'll do it," a young, petite nurse came to the door. 

"Ok. Come on back," Patricia held the door open. 

The guard led me to the lab room. "Sit," he said to me. To the nurse, he said "I'll be in the waiting room." 

The nurse nodded. "May I see your arm, please?" 

I held my injured arm out to her. 

"Goodness, what happened?" She pulled on a pair of gloves and applied pressure with gauze to stop the bleeding. 

"Think I caught a rough edge of a table when I was at dinner." 

"Is that so? This looks like a cut from a homemade weapon to me," She looked at me to see if I would give her any reaction. I just shrugged my shoulders. 

"Ok," she opened a drawer and pulled out a syringe. "I'm going to numb this before I try to clean it or suture it. It might sting a little, but then it will feel better." 

"What have I told you about coddling them, Amy? We'll have a line out the door for sick call tomorrow," Patricia said. 

"I thought you were going home, Patricia," Amy said, without looking up. 

"I'm going." 

"Goodnight then." 

"I'm sorry," Amy said. "I know this hurts." 

I thought I was keeping a straight face, even though my arm was throbbing and I felt every stick of the needle. I guess I'm not as brave as I thought I was.  

"All done. I need to go get your chart. What is your inmate number?" 

I told her my number, even though it was written on the front of my jumpsuit. "Alright, just sit tight. I'll be back in a few minutes." 

My entire forearm was numb by time Amy came back into the lab room and I didn't feel a thing when Amy sutured it. 

"I'm required to write a report to put in your chart. I'm also required to turn in a copy to the Warden. I don't expect you to name names, but if you'd like to tell me more about how you got such a deep cut, I'm happy to listen." 

"I'm not really sure what happened," I told her as honestly as I could. I didn't want to think about what would happen if Big Johnson thought I ratted him out. I'd heard enough stories about him to fill several books. 

"Fair enough. I'm going to write you out of your job duties for tomorrow. Come to sick call day after tomorrow so we can change your bandage and check for infection." 

"Okay." 

"Here is the copy of your work excuse. I have a copy in your file, just in case that one gets lost," Amy walked me to the door and told the guard her instructions. He only nodded.

 

<<<<>>>> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prayers from Prison by Lorna Dacalio helped me immensely while researching for this chapter.


	15. The Smell of Hospitals in Winter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV: Taylor, Isaac
> 
> Title taken from "A Long December" by the Counting Crows

"Hanson. Hanson," I woke up to Big Johnson whispering my name. "I need to know what you told the nurse," he said as soon as my eyes were open. 

"I didn't tell her anything. Fuck! Let go of my arm." The cut throbbed where he squeezed it. 

"Not until you tell me what you said," I got a better look at what he had used to cut my arm. The makeshift knife was several pieces of barbed wire twisted together. I guessed he had combed the yard for stray pieces from the fence. He gripped the knife by a handle made of newspaper and floor wax. 

"I told her I thought I caught my arm on the edge of a table." 

"Did she believe you?" 

"I don't . . . Fucking shit, man!" Big Johnson used his weapon to slice though the stitches in my arm. I tried to pull away, but one of his cronies held me down. All I could think about was the burning pain, but I knew any sign of weakness would mean hell for me.

 "My boys have been told what to do if I get so much as a mark on my record for this. Do not cross me." 

"I won't," I said when my breath came back. "I just want to do my time and go home." 

"You won't make it there if you keep getting on my bad side." 

I just nodded. 

"Just to make sure," the world went into slow motion as Johnson used his weapon to make the cut in my arm longer and deeper. I must have cried out, because Johnson pulled the weapon from my skin with a jerk. 

"What is going on?" The night guard, Officer Kinney, asked. 

"Hanson opened his cut back up. I was trying to help. We were just about to call you," Big Johnson's boys nodded their agreement with his explanation. 

"Is that so?" Officer Kinney looked at me. 

"Yes, officer," but I could tell he didn't believe me. 

"Hanson, stay here. Inmates Johnson, Martinez and Graham, you will be searched and required to give a full report." Officer Kinney called for assistance, then handcuffed Big Johnson. He barely had him restrained before three other guards arrived. Two of them handcuffed Martinez and Graham. 

"Stand up, Hanson," the other guard instructed me. I did as he told me. "Since your sheet is already a bloody mess, wrap it around your arm. I don't want to look at it."  It took a few minutes for me to follow his instructions using only one hand, but I finally got my thin bed sheet wrapped around my arm. The cut was now close to my elbow. 

Without a word, Officer Mills handcuffed me as well. "Come along," he lead me out of the dorm by my good elbow. I didn't understand why I was being punished, but I knew better than to ask. 

I was quiet as Officer Mills pushed me into a police car, but sighed with relief when we pulled up to a small hospital thirty minutes later. 

"Another fight?" the security guard at the front entrance to the ER asked Officer Mills. 

"You know it. Can't keep them in line." 

"Alright. You know where to take him." 

I saw the other patients stare as we walked through the waiting room and into a small room marked "Prisoners." I couldn't help but notice women gripped their purses a little tighter as I walked by. The officer removed the handcuffs once we were inside the room. 

"You sit there," Officer Mills pointed to the exam table in the center of the room and settled himself in a chair off to the side. 

The smell of bleach and rubbing alcohol brought back memories of babies meeting the world for the first time. And one especially scary thought unburied itself from under years of happier memories made. I still remembered wondering what I would do without Isaac if the doctors couldn’t cure the blood clot in his lung. I couldn’t believe I had such a selfish thought. I wished he was here now. 

A few minutes later, there was a soft knock on the door. "Good evening, my name is Sara Beth. I'm from registration. I need to get a little bit of information from you." 

"Okay," I told her. 

"I just need you to fill out the top sheet with your demographic information and . . ." My makeshift bandage started to slip from my arm when I reached for the clipboard. 

"Will it be easier if fill these out for you?" 

"If you don't mind," I told her. 

"He can do it. Here." Officer Mills shoved the clipboard into my hand. "You don't have to baby him, sweetheart." 

Sara Beth gave the guard a look that could curdle milk. "I'll do my job the way I see fit," she told him. "You need to fill out these," she gave Officer Mills another clipboard with a stack of papers attached. 

"Oh, I like the feisty ones," he said. "Do you have a boyfriend?" 

Sara Beth rolled her eyes and crossed her arms while I filled out the paperwork. It took several minutes, but I completed the information and handed the clipboard back to Sara Beth. "I'll put this information into the computer and be right back with your copies," she said. 

"I'll show you out," Officer Mills told her. I noticed she had to use her hospital ID badge to leave the room. "I want to see you," I heard him say. I guess he didn't realize how much his voice carried. 

I didn't hear all of Sara Beth's response, but Officer Mills slumped back in the room a second later. 

"I don't know what is wrong with women now-a-days," he said. I bit my tongue to keep back the sarcastic response. 

A nurse knocked loudly on the door, then wheeled a cart into the room. "Jordan Hanson? Date of birth 03/14/1983?"

"Yes." 

"Okay, let's see what is going on," I winced when he peeled the sheet off and put my arm on a small metal table. Fresh blood trickled to the surface of my arm where the sheet had stuck to it. 

"That's a pretty big wound. What happened?" 

"I'm just clumsy, I guess." 

I knew the nurse didn't believe me, but better to lie and stay alive. I had no doubt Big Johnson meant every word of his threat. 

"Looks like it was stitched up before. It takes quite a lot to pull out stitches. What were you doing?" 

"The first time I must have scraped it, then the stitches came out when I was in bed. I must have turned in my sleep wrong." 

"Uh huh. All your vaccines up to date? Tetnus?" 

"Yes," I managed, even the nurse had already started cleaning the cut and I could barely focus on anything but the burning. 

"You aren't allergic to anything? The doctor will probably want to put you on an antibiotic." 

"No." Tears formed in my eyes and clenched my good hand into a fist. 

"Ok. I'll have the doctor come take a look at this before I sew it back up." 

Sara Beth came back in the room as soon as the nurse left. "Ok, Mr. Hanson. I have your copies of the paperwork here and I just need to put your wristband on." 

"I'll take those papers," Officer Mills snapped his fingers at Sara Beth. 

"Is that okay with you, sir?" she addressed me. 

"Fine. Are they keeping me?" I gestured at the armband she wrapped around my wrist. 

"The doctor will make that call," she said, "but it's standard practice to put an identification band on all patients. I'm also required to inform you of your right to contact your lawyer since you were injured on prison property. We'll be glad to arrange for you to use a phone. The paperwork Officer Mills is holding for you explains that in more detail." 

"This is the first time I've heard of that requirement," Officer Mills said.

"New policy. It's all there in black in white. I'm happy to bring you a copy." 

"No need," the officer said. 

"Thank you for telling me. I'll like to make that phone call now, please," I said. 

"Sure. We have a portable phone, I'll bring it to you right away. Do you know your lawyer's phone number or do you need me to look it up for you?" 

"No, I memorized it before I got locked up," I looked pointedly at Officer Mills "Just in case." 

"Good for you." 

Sara Beth was back with the phone in less than a minute. She explained to Officer Mills that he was required to give me complete privacy while I was on the phone. She also explained to me that the phone call would not be monitored or recorded in any way. Officer Mills protested, but eventually followed Sara Beth out of the room. 

I told Blake everything that had happened, including the fact that Big Johnson had threatened me if I told anyone. Blake said that he would call the judge first thing in the morning to see about getting me transfered to another facility and in the mean time petition the warden for extra security for me. I also asked him to call Isaac and let him know what was going on. I knew Isaac would be worried as hell once he found out, but I also knew he would be pissed as hell if he was kept in the dark. 

The doctor still hadn't come in the room by time I finished talking to Blake and I was starting to wonder if he ever would. My arm still felt like it was on fire, but the bleeding had stopped. Sara Beth came back to get the phone and Officer Mills resumed his post off to the side of the tiny room. After several minutes of awkward silence, a doctor breezed into the room. 

"I'm Dr. Gains. Jordan Hanson?" a middle aged woman glanced at my chart. "We're running a bit behind tonight. One of our trauma patients crashed," she explained into the chart. 

"Injury while incarcerated. Hmmm. Have you been offered an opportunity to speak with your lawyer?" 

I nodded. 

"Okay, lets see what we have here. Wound from a homemade weapon?" she asked. 

I didn't respond. "I'll take that as a yes." 

Officer Miller grunted. He was probably on Team Johnson, but I'd already told Blake everything. What good would it do to lie to the medical staff at this point?

"This is a pretty deep cut, and long as well. We could do a local anesthetic, but I think I'd prefer to do a general sedative." 

I started to protest, but she went on, "It won't put you all the way to sleep, but it will make you much more relaxed. This is going to take some time to stitch. We also need to make sure all the old stitches are removed so they don't get infected." 

"I guess that's okay then," I told her. 

"I also want to keep you at least overnight to make sure the wound doesn't open up again and get infected. I'll probably also give you at least one round of antibiotics. This wound has been open for quite some time. Not your fault, I know, but the nature of the ER." 

I was relieved to hear I wouldn't have to go back to the prison tonight. "That's fine, doctor." 

"Good," she said. "I'll have Omar come back and get the IV started for the sedative." 

I nodded, but she was already out the door. 

"Guess you lucked up, huh Hanson?" Officer Mills said. 

"I'm just doing what the doctor said. I don't care to be here anymore than I care to be in prison," I lied. 

"You're so much trouble. I guess I'll have to call the prison and tell them to send my relief here. I'll already be getting home late." 

I started to tell him "Maybe if you did your job better, I wouldn't be here," but the same nurse from before, I guessed he was Omar, came back in the room. 

"Put this on while I set up. Doc wants to keep you overnight," he tossed a hospital gown at me. 

I looked at both him and Officer Miller. Was there no privacy anywhere? 

"Bathroom's through that door," he gestured between laying out various supplies on a small table. 

I manged to wrestle my uniform off and the gown on only using my uninjured arm. 

"I guess we'll put this in the good arm," Omar said, without giving me time to respond before he stuck the needle in my hand and started the IV. "You'll want to lay back. It will take about 20  minutes for this to take full effect. I'll be back. Buzz me if you need anything or start to feel sick," he put something that resembled a remote control in my hand. 

"Ok," I said. I watched the medicine drip into the IV line until everything was a blur of light and voices.

 

* * *

 

 

"What? How could that happen? We'll sue those incompetent guards for everything they are worth," I said into the phone. I was surprised when Blake called me so late at night, and I knew right away something had happened to Taylor. 

"Which isn't much, Isaac. State workers aren't very high on the pay scale." Blake tried to reason with me. 

"I want him home." 

"I doubt very much that I can work out an early release. Taylor seems to have a few marks on his record, 'Using language in front of prison staff, not cooperating with medical staff . . .'"  

"That is bogus. Taylor explained all that to me. That nurse tortured him." 

"Be that as it may, the judge only responds to what is in black and white. I told Taylor I'd try to get him transfered to another facility. I can't promise the judge will go along with it, but I will ask for early release on grounds that Taylor is in danger. I didn't want to get his hopes up about that, so I didn't mention it. Prison is a different world. Fights happen all the time and so do injuries. To be realistic, the best we can hope for is to get him out of general population and into protective confinement." 

"Meaning?"

"Meaning he'd have a cell to himself and a guard assigned to him when he needs to move around the prison. But prisons are so short staffed already, they are usually very hesitant to spare a staff member just for one prisoner. Even with a court order the prison staff will do everything they can to avoid it." 

"I want to visit him." 

"Isaac, if I am going to have any chance at all, we have to go by the letter of the rules. The rules say he can't have any visitors at the hospital and he can only contact me." 

"What hospital is he in?" 

"Isaac, even if you could visit Taylor, he probably won't be at the hospital much longer, anyway." 

"Ok. Just let me know as soon as you hear something." 

"I will." 

How was I supposed to go back to sleep after that? My eyes had barely been closed when Blake called. Not that I slept much anyway, but now my mind was a rolling jumble of thoughts. Why didn't Taylor tell me something was up? That type of violence doesn't just happen out the blue, prison or not. Taylor always sees the best in people, though. He probably thought he could just avoid the problem, or even somehow redeem this Johnson inmate. 

I meant to go online to research violence in prison, but somehow I ended up logged into our band website. 

_HI Isaac! Just wondering if Taylor will be at Hanson Day this year. I mean, you and Zac are great, but I was just wondering with prison and all, would Tay be there?_

_Isaac! Will there be photos Hanson Day this year?_

_PS - Taylor is going to be there, right? Heard about prison. That.sux!_

_Dear Isaac,_

_Heard about Taylor in prison, uugggghhh. But that's life. What are you going to do, lol? I won't be at Hanson Day. (I have no money, my life sucks uuuuuggghhh.) But hope it goes well for you, lol. Hate to hear the band is breaking up, ugh._

I scrolled through about 100 PMs and they all had the same theme. One rather annoying fan suggested I should seize the opportunity to sing more lead songs, LOLOLOLOL. I didn't reply to any of them. What was I going to say? " _Thanks for your PM, but I don't take advice from bleach blond girls. Especially ones that don't realize they are far too old to wear leopard print leggings."_

I wondered if Zac's PMs were the same. I wondered if he even had time to check them? Zac had made all the plans for Hanson Day and supervised the remodeling work at the studio. The investigation to the break in finally closed - Natalie was the main suspect, but they couldn't get enough evidence to convict her. Plus, our conservative police force was reluctant to arrest a mother of five, especially when her husband was in prison. Thankfully, our insurance covered the repairs.  

Our production business had to work. After tonight, I was determined Taylor wasn't going back to prison. Failing to pay his fine was not an option. I needed to get out of my own head and help Zac. 

The number of PMs in my inbox rose the longer I stayed logged into h.net. That was another concern. We would probably need an entirely new website catering to our production business. And a crackerjack filter to keep out all the spam inquiries. I wondered if we could put a "prove you aren't a crazy fan" captcha on the contact page? 

I don't know what possessed me to turn on the TV at that point, but the local news was already advertising that they had more information on  "a local celebrity inmate rushed to the hospital" on the 6 AM news. They had to mean Taylor. I poured myself a whiskey and settled in to watch infomercials until 6. My exhausted brain didn't last that long. Somewhere between the best blender ever and the key to financial success (Never work again!), I fell asleep to tormented dreams of my brother all alone in the hospital.

 

<<<<>>>> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prayers from Prison by Lorna Dacalio helped me immensely while researching for this chapter.


	16. A(nother) Day in Court

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the delay in posting. I just had a hard time ending this story. I wasn't ready to say goodbye to the characters. But, as they say, all good things . . . 
> 
> POV: Taylor, Isaac

 

I felt like I was floating, but at the same time, my body felt heavy. I was aware of every bone in my body, especially those in my injured arm, which I could barely lift enough to shield my eyes from the sun streaming in through the window.

At some point during the night, I had been moved to a regular hospital room. The sedative might not have been meant to put me into a deep sleep, but I guess once I had enough in my system, my body did the rest. A prison guard dozed in one corner of the room, so I decided to lay as still as possible and soak up as many moments of precious peace as I could. Once he woke up, I was sure I’d be subjected to some form of verbal abuse. Not that I could go anywhere if I tried. My foot was held to the bed by some type of soft restraint band. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but I’ve never been much on being confined. How far did they really expect me to get with only a hospital gown and one good arm?

The peace didn’t last long. “Jordan Hanson?” a nurse wheeled a cart with a laptop into the room.

“Yes,” I said.

“I just need to check your vitals,” she put a blood pressure cuff on my arm and a thermometer under my tongue. The guard in the corner stirred.

“Isn’t this a little much for a few stitches?” I asked as she recorded the numbers.

“I think it’s a lot much,” the guard interjected.

“Be that as it may,” the nurse looked at the guard and then at me, “Sometimes the smallest injuries can escalate if they get infected. Besides that, your chart says you’ve been in contact with your lawyer, so you can expect us to follow protocol to the letter.”

“Of course. It’s all about money. Even in health care.”

“We can’t care for anyone if we get sued and have to close our doors.”

“Fair point.”

“Your breakfast should be here shortly. I’ll have a tray sent up for you as well, officer. The doctor will be around to check your stitches and discuss discharge soon.”

“She can take her time.”

“Buzz us if you need anything.”

“I will.”

“You caused a pretty big ruckus down at the prison, you know,” the guard said to me once the nurse left.

“I caused? I was the one rudely awakened in the middle of the night.”

“All you need to do is stay out of Big Johnson’s way and you’ll be fine. Don’t even think about becoming the new alpha.”

“Alpha? You make it sound like a wolf pack.”

“Not far from it. Not only do we have to deal with your lawyer, we have to deal with Big Johnson’s lawyer, too.”

“Really?”

“You aren’t the only one with a well paid lawyer, teen idol. Big Johnson’s family has tons of money. He should be under lock and key in maximum security, but his lawyers sweet talked the judges, so he is with us for the next few years.”

“That doesn’t quite seem fair.”

“Neither does the fact that your brother paid off the judge. You should be in for at least 5 years.”

“He what? Isaac would never do that. The prosecution offered a deal and I took it. He didn’t pay off anyone.” Maybe that is why I was getting mistreated, all because of what probably amounted to nothing more than a rumor.

“There is really no sense in lying about it now. From here on out, just keep your mouth shut and stay out of everyone’s way. Especially Big Johnson’s.”

Before I could respond another nurse came into the room with a basket full of tubes and medical supplies.

“Jordan Hanson? Date of birth three fourteen nineteen eighty three?”

“Still me.”

“My name is Lynn. Dr. Gains ordered lab work,” she explained.

I noticed the guard went a little pale. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. I need to check in with my supervisor anyway. Don’t give her any trouble, Hanson.”

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll be fine,” the nurse smiled and winked at me. “I’m just going to go through your IV line for the blood samples. It might feel a little strange, but it shouldn’t hurt. You aren’t in any pain now, are you?”

“No.”

“Just buzz the nurses’ station if your arm starts hurting again.”

“I will.”

“Okay, all done. I’ll get these to the lab. Dr. Gains worked late in the ER last night, so she may not start on rounds until this afternoon.”

“Ok.”

She started packing up her things and was headed out when I stopped her.

“I was actually wondering if . . .” I stopped from embarrassment.

“Yes?”

I supposed she was used to these questions, so I forged on “Well, I need to use the bathroom, but . . .” I pointed to my foot.

“Oh dear. You poor thing. I’ll help you. I don’t really think they meant to restrain you, but just to keep you from turning over in your sleep and laying on your arm.” Lynn took the restraint off my foot and I started to get up.

“Here, let me help you. You don’t want to pull out your IV.”

“No, I can manage.”

“I know grown men aren’t much for being helped to the bathroom, but I went to school for this, believe it or not.”

“Alright,” I managed not to get too embarrassed as she held my arm the few feet to the bathroom, and even with her standing right outside the door, it was more privacy than I’d had in months.

“I don’t see any reason to put this back on your foot. You don’t seem like a troublemaker to me.” She put the restraint beside my foot and pulled the sheets back up so it would look like it was still on.

“Thanks, I appreciate . . . Is that?”

She pulled up her sleeve so I could see the word “weird” tattooed on her wrist. “Yes. But don’t worry, I value my job far too much to Instagram or Tweet about any of this. Besides, if a mob of fans show up in the parking lot, I might have a hard time leaving when my shift ends.”

“Thank you.”

“Do you need anything else?”

“Not right now.”

“Breakfast,” an orderly barged through the door, almost running into the nurse on her way out and the guard followed him through the door.

“You really are something, aren’t you?” the guard said.

“What?” I said around a mouthful of dry toast.

“You must have all the women here under your little rock star spell. Normally the doctor on call would have already released you back into our care, but the doctor you saw last night insists that you are not released until she personally checks on you.”

“And that’s my fault how?”

“The women just fall over you. There was a little giggling bunch at the nurses station when I walked past. You’d think medical professionals could contain themselves.”

“You’d think law enforcement professionals would keep this from happening,” I held up my bandaged arm.

“You’d think an inmate would show a little more respect to his superiors.”

“With all due respect, officer, you are in no way superior to me. At least not in any way that matters.” Screw it, I thought. If I catch hell for this, I’ll blame it on the pain meds.

He crossed his arms and looked out the window. I pushed my breakfast tray away and settled back onto my pillow.

I felt like I’d just closed my eyes when the room phone rang. It was on the wrong side of the bed and I couldn’t reach it. I started to call for the nurse, but the guard shoved the phone into my hand. “Here, damn it.”

“Hello?”

“Taylor? This is Blake. I have news.”

* * *

 

“You should have called me, Isaac. Taylor is my brother, too. You could have at least called Mom.”

“I know, Zac, but Blake didn’t call me until late last night. I’m sorry you had to hear about it on the news.”

“Well, that seems to be the theme between you and Taylor. You two must think the rest of us are stupid or something.”

“Sometimes there isn’t any point in creating drama and lots of questions until I have all the information. I still haven’t heard from Blake. I promise I will let you know as soon as I do.”

“Okay. I’ll take your word for it. I guess that’s all I can do for now. I have a conference call in a few minutes, anyway.”

Blake said he would call the warden and the judge first thing this morning, but it was almost 10 and I hadn’t heard anything from him. I knew how bureaucracy could be, so I figured I’d give him until about noon to work everything out. I wish I could somehow figure out what hospital Taylor was in. Even if they wouldn’t let me see him, I could at least be there for him. Besides, we do seem to have fans in helpful places. Maybe I’d get lucky and someone would be willing to bend the rules in exchange for an autograph.

A quick Internet search revealed that Eastern Oklahoma Medical Center was the closest hospital to the prison. I was sure the prison staff wouldn’t bother to go any farther than necessary. My heart started pounding when I saw the hospital had a one star rating. None of the reviews were good - one stated that the medical staff wasn’t concerned about patients’ pain. Another reviewer said the doctors mistakenly gave him breast implants. I hoped that one was fake. Of course if Taylor only needed stitches, maybe he wasn’t at the hospital anymore.

I was about to call information when I got a text from Blake “Hearing for Taylor at the court house at 1pm.”

“I assume this means I can come to the hearing? Will Taylor be there?”

“Sit in the gallery. Taylor still in the hospital. Unable to get anymore information.”

“See you at 1.”

Taylor must have been hurt pretty badly to still be in the hospital. If all he needed was a few stitches, he would have been sent back to the prison. From what I’d witnessed, prison staff likes to limit inmate interaction with decent people. I knew that the next few hours would be long ones, and the the wait inside the courtroom even longer. Just because Taylor was on the docket for 1pm didn’t mean the judge would review Taylor’s case on time.

I sent a text to Zac and Mom to let them know when the hearing was. That killed all of about 5 minutes, and with nothing else to do, I rearranged the guitars in my office until time to leave.

I was really starting to hate that courthouse. The last time I was there, my brother was sentenced to prison. The time before that, I signed my divorce papers. I got lost in the maze of hallways and slid into the courtroom gallery at 12:59.

I sat beside Zac, he had his head down, hair covering his face. I reached over to pat his shoulder and he jerked his head up and moved a little farther away from me.

I couldn’t say anything to him because the judge was calling the courtroom to order. The bailiff called the first case - a parole violation hearing. This was not the same judge Taylor had for his hearing. This judge seemed to be very strict. From what I gathered, the defendant ran a red light trying to get home before her court ordered curfew. She had apparently been held up by a customer at work and was late leaving. It all seemed very reasonable to me, but the judge sent her back to prison for 6 months. I recognized the look of defeat in her eyes - it was the same look Taylor had when he was sentenced.

I looked over to Zac for some comfort, but he just glared at me. What had I done? Yes, I should have called him as soon as I found out about Taylor, but I’d already apologized for that. I resolved to get to the bottom of it once I got through these next few hours. I could only help one brother at a time.

We sat through two more cases, both of which ended badly for the defendant, before the bailiff announced Taylor’s case.

“Petition for release of prisoner due to endangerment,” the judge read. “Council, would you like to present your case?” He peered over his bench at Blake.

“Yes, your honor. Inmate Hanson was taken to the emergency room last night due to injuries caused by another inmate. The same inmate threatened Hanson with further harm if he reported the injuries.”

“I see. It is unfortunate, but prisons are not meant to be luxury vacations. Prosecution, what do you have to say in this matter?”

The lawyer for the state stepped forward with a sly grin on his face. “As you said, you honor, prisons are not meant for . . .”

“Yes, I know what I said. Get on with your argument,” The judge interrupted.

“Yes, your honor. As it stands, inmate Hanson was already given a lenient sentence, due to his status in the community. This inmate, however shows a history of manipulative behavior. If you were to grant inmate Hanson a release, he could very well fall into the same behaviors. He has not had the proper amount of time served to cause a true reform. In fact, I’m working on gathering evidence now that Hanson convinced his brother to pay off Judge Harrison.”

What? I was shocked. How could anyone think such a thing? Was this what pissed Zac off? Does he really think we paid of the judge to get Taylor a light sentence?

“I’ll ask you to refrain from such accusations until you do have evidence to back it up. Council for the defendant?”

“Inmate Hanson is very grateful for the lenient sentence given, however, as the prosecution pointed out, he is a very well known member of this community. It is that very status that his causing him to be threatened. The inmate that sliced his arm is afraid of losing his status with the other inmates.”

“And why should we play into prison squabbles?”

“Because, as the prosecution inferred, prisons are to be places to reform behavior. We have a responsibility to keep all of our citizens safe. Inmates are no less deserving of our concern than any other citizens.”

“I see. Prosecution, do you have a rebuttal?”

“I’m just concerned about the example it will set for other prisoner behavior. We wouldn’t want to start an epidemic of self harm for early release.”

“Do you mean to imply that Inmate Hanson harmed himself, or otherwise coerced a prisoner into harming him, in order to be released early.”

“There is no evidence to the contrary, your honor.”

“Councilor, I want you to prove your case, not simply make up scenarios. Prisoners have been injuring themselves since prisons were invented. An elementary history lesson would tell you that. Council for the defendant, do you have anything to add?”

“No, your honor.”

“In that case, we’ll have a brief recess while I deliberate.”

“Zac . . .” I tried as soon as the judge left the bench.

“What do you want?”

“What happened? I thought we were ok?”

“Well, you and Taylor made sure of that, didn’t you? I don’t want him to be in prison any more than you do, but, I wouldn’t pay off a judge to get him out. We shouldn’t use our status to take advantage of the system.”

“Zac, we didn’t do anything of the sort.”

“A photographer saw you at the bank.”

“Zac, the only money I got out that day was enough to bail Taylor out. You know better than to believe internet rumors.”

“Avery texted the picture to me. She is upset, too.”

“Who did she get the picture from?”

“She didn’t say.”

“It doesn’t matter. I know who sent the picture to her. I’m also quite sure the same person sent the photographer to the bank in the first place.”

Zac sighed and slumped back against the bench. “Sometimes I think that all you need me for is to keep up the website and talk to fans. You and Taylor make all the business decisions and I’m expected to go along.”

“We will be glad to include you more. You’ve done such a great job of keeping the business going while Taylor and I weren’t able to handle everything.”

“By the way, we have a few bands ready to go for Mayfest, and we should probably get on that as soon as possible. I’ve also already booked our flight and hotel for South By Southwest.”

I was about to tell Zac what a fantastic job he did, but the bailiff broke in “All rise!”

We stood while the judge entered. My heart was pounding in my chest as I waited for the judge to settle. Each shuffle of papers seemed like an eternity. You’d think someone in that high of a position would be more organized.

“The petition to release Inmate number 4515891 due to endangerment has been granted on a conditional basis. Per the precedents for this petition, the prisoner will be released on the condition he serve out the remainder of his sentence plus one month on house arrest, to start no later than 24 hours after his release from prison. He must remain in the custody of a responsible family member, and is not to violate any of the terms of his release, which I will explain now . . .”

The judge went on for 10 minutes about how Taylor would have to wear an ankle cuff to monitor his movements and could only leave the house with special permission from his parole officer. All I cared about was that at the very end, the judge stressed that Taylor was to be released immediately, in fact, I could go get him from the hospital.

“Taylor is starting to rub off on you,” Zac said, as soon as the judge left.

“How?”

“Well, you’re fidgeting. You never fidget.”

“I’m just ready to go get Taylor.”

“Here is the paperwork you will need,” Blake said, handing me a stack of papers. “I have a copy to keep on file as well.”

“Blake, I can’t tell you how much we appreciate this.”

He held up his hands “I’m just doing my job. Do you want me to ride with you to pick up Taylor, just in case?”

“No, I think I’ll be fine. Just let them try to keep my brother.”

Blake held up his hands, “I believe you. Alright, come to my office first thing in the morning, there is some paperwork he’ll need to sign, then you’ll have to go down to the police station to get his monitor.”

“We’ll be there,” I already had my keys in my hand.

“Hey, Ike?”

“Yeah, Zac?”

“You might want to swing by Taylor’s house and get him a change of clothes. He won’t want to ride home in a hospital gown.”

“Good point,” I said. What I didn’t tell Zac is that I’d had a bag packed for Taylor since last night.

“Drive safe, and I’ll go ahead and call Mom and tell her. We’ll see you when you get back.”

“Will do,” I said, walking as fast as I could out of the courthouse without breaking into a full run.


	17. Already Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV: Taylor, Isaac, Zac, Taylor (in that order)

 “I guess you want to stay here a little bit longer don’t you, Rockstar?” The guard asked.

Only about an hour more, and I’d be free from his snide comments. The doctor came by to check on my arm while I was still on the phone with Blake. I’d hardly had a moment to process everything. The Judge approved my release and Isaac was on the way to pick me up. I’d have to be on house arrest for a few months, but that would be better than prison. Now, I was trying to remove the tape from my IV, then I could get the stupid thing out of my arm. The nurse was supposed to be in, but it had been a while and I wanted to be ready to as soon as Isaac walked in the door. I hoped he’d thought to bring a change of clothes, but I’d ride home in my hospital gown if I needed to. Anything to get the hell away from anything associated with that prison. 

“Can’t you leave now?” I asked the guard. 

“Until your brother gets here, you are still in custody of the state.” 

“Lunch time,” an orderly brought in a food tray, but I pushed it away. No more hospital or prison food for me. 

“Some people would be happy to eat that, you know,” The guard pointed out. 

“Well, they can have it. This isn’t real food, anyway. Just crap from a can warmed over. You forget I worked in the kitchen at the prison. I know where most of the food comes from, and I’m sure hospital kitchens aren’t much different.” 

Someone knocked on the door, and I could tell by the sound it was Isaac. 

“Come in,” I said. My heart was beating so fast. If Isaac was here, it meant it was almost time to go home.

 I started crying the second he stepped into the room. I didn’t care that the guard was watching. I held out my arms to him. We didn’t need to talk through the tears. He was here, and that was all I needed. 

When we both regained our composure somewhat, he held up a small duffel bag. “I brought you a change of clothes.” 

“Thanks, man.” 

“Alright, lets get you ready to go,” Lynn came into the room. “Looks like you already got a head start.” 

I’d managed to pull up the tape on my IV at each end. “Just ready to go home.” Isaac stepped to the side so the nurse could remove my IV. I kept my eyes on him the entire time, afraid he would vanish at any moment and I would be back in prison. 

“I’ll bet you are. Still pain free?” she asked.

“Pretty much,” I lied 

Lynn shot me a look, “Rate your pain on a scale of one to ten.”

_Eight,_ I thought. “Umm, about a three.” I wasn’t going to stay here any longer. Between my Mom and my family doctor, I was sure I’d be better soon enough. 

“So, that’s a seven in man-speak. Dr. Gains wrote you a prescription for pain. I’ll go ahead and bring you a dose now.” 

“As long as it doesn’t make me sleepy.” 

“Would you rather be asleep or in pain?” 

“Today? I’d rather be in pain.” 

“Well, I’ll bring them just in case you change your mind on the way home. Alright, all done. I’ll get your discharge papers to you and you can leave as soon as you’re ready.” 

I looked at the guard. “Well? My brother is here. You can go.” 

“I’ll have to call in first and make sure,” the guard stepped outside. 

“Thank goodness,” I said to Isaac. I grabbed the duffel bag and went in the bathroom to change. 

“Shit!” I banged my good arm against the door trying to pull on my blue jeans. They were looser than they were a few months ago, but still tight enough to be difficult to pull on one handed. 

“Do you need some help?” Isaac asked. 

“No, I’m fine.” 

“Tay . . .” 

“Well, I suppose since you picked out a button down shirt for me . . .” 

Isaac’s fingers brushed against my chest as he buttoned my shirt. Isaac had always been my safe place, and more so even now. He’d never hold it over my head or brag about how he had to help me get dressed. 

“I actually couldn’t decide which would be the easiest for you. I packed and unpacked about three different shirts. I should have left them all in the bag and let you pick.” 

I touched his hand, “Thank you.” 

“Did you leave anything at the prison you Need to go back for?” 

I thought about my wedding ring, nestled inside my shoe somewhere in prison storage. 

“Not a thing. Let’s go home.” 

* * *

 

I’ve seen Taylor move pretty fast before, but never as fast as he moved walking out of that hospital. Once we were outside, he paused for a moment to get some fresh air and wait on me, since he didn’t know where I’d parked the car. 

“This way,” I’d actually managed to get a decent parking spot, so we didn’t have too far to walk. I’d offered to let him wait inside while I pulled the car up to the curb, but he said he wanted to walk.

Taylor leaned his head against the seat once we were inside. “I can’t believe I’m actually going home.” 

“Speaking of, Mom is cooking a big dinner for you tonight. Most of the family is going to be there.” 

“Mmmmmm. Nothing like Mom’s cooking.” 

“Are you hungry now? You didn’t eat your lunch.” 

“We can stop for something small if you don’t mind. Taco Bueno?” 

“Anything you want.” 

Taylor smiled, his real smile, not the one reserved for fans and photo shoots. I missed that smile. It was short lived, though. He started picking at his bandage, and I knew he was in pain. 

“We’ll stop by the pharmacy on the way to your house and get your prescription filled so you can go ahead and take your pain medicine.” 

“No.” 

“Taylor . . .” 

“I don’t want to go my house. Can we go to your house?”

“Of course we can. I’d actually prefer you stay with me, at least until your arm heals, but you are welcome to stay as long as you need to.” 

“We’ll see. My kids have to come first. I want to make sure they are okay, but if I went home now, Natalie and I would probably just end up fighting, and they don’t need to see that.” 

“We’ll make sure your kids are safe. You know Mom will do everything she can to keep them in Tulsa, even if you and Natalie do end up separating.” 

“I’m going to file for divorce if she doesn’t beat me to it.” 

“If that’s what you decide to do, I’m behind you.” 

“How is the business?” 

“Good. Zac really stepped up and got several artists signed on. We have a Mayfest band coming into the studio next week to start recording, and our studio schedule is pretty full after that. We are going to South by Southwest in March to try to recruit more bands so we can keep producing through the summer and fall.” 

“I’m glad. I was starting to think he was trying to get away from 3CG.” 

“I think he is happier now that he has more responsibilities in the business. Although,” I stopped. I didn’t want to throw everything at Taylor all at once. 

“Although what?” 

“He heard some rumor that we paid off the judge and that’s why you got a light prison sentence.” 

“The prosecution offered a deal. We took it. Now this mess is almost over with. We still would be limbo waiting on court dates if we hadn’t." 

“That’s what I tried to tell Zac.” 

“Where did he hear the rumor? He knows better than to believe everything he reads.” 

“Natalie sent Avery a text, Avery forwarded it to Zac.” 

“And he believed it? After everything?” 

“It was strange to me, too. I think he feels like we left him out when this whole mess started.” 

Taylor shook his head, “Well, if he would have acted like a reasonable person to talk to, maybe he could have been more involved.” 

“I know, Tay. Really, the only thing to do at this point is to keep moving forward.” 

“Forward. And home.” 

 

* * *

 

 

“Looking out the window won’t make them get here any faster,” I said 

“I know,” Mom said “I’m just ready to see Taylor, that’s all. What time did Isaac call you?” 

“He said they were on their way about 3:30. And that the hospital was about half and hour closer to here than the prison.” 

“It’s 5:30 now, so they should be here by 6, right?” 

“Should be, unless Taylor wanted go home first.” 

“That’s true. I’m sure he wanted to freshen up,” Mom stirred things in various bowls and checked kitchen timers. 

“I’ll call Isaac and see where they are.” 

“No, no, I don’t want him talking on his cell phone and driving. You don’t seem to happy. Aren’t you glad Taylor is coming home?” 

“I am Mom, I really am. I guess I’m just nervous about how everything is going to work out and how we are going to move forward.” 

Mom stopped her meal prep to brush the hair out of my face. “You three have always been survivors. It’s your bond and your determination to succeed that helps you get through anything life throws at you. You’ll get through this, too, and you’ll be stronger for it.” 

“We’re here,” Isaac called from the foyer. Mom ran to the front of the house, and I could hear her making all sorts of commotion about Taylor. 

Isaac walked into the kitchen and raised his eyebrow at me. It was a look I knew well, and in short, it meant “Are you going to behave? Or do I need to slap you?” 

“I’m cool,” I told him. 

“Taylor’s been through hell. Just let him have a few days, then the three of us can sit down and figure all this shit out.” 

“As long as we can have that discussion at some point.” 

“Hey, Zac,” Taylor said, one hand in his pocket, one arm bandaged from wrist to elbow. He stood just outside of the kitchen doorway, rocking back and forth on his heels. 

“Tay,” I gave him a hug, careful not to touch his bandaged arm. I hope he knew it meant I loved him, even though I wasn’t quite ready to forgive and forget just yet. 

“Where are the girls?” Taylor asked. 

“Jessica and Zoe went to get more ice. Avery said she had a headache and wasn’t going to be able to make it.” 

“And Dad?” 

“He’s just heading in from the studio. He had a last minute conference call. I know you’re tired. You go rest, I’ll get everything on the table so we can eat as soon as everyone gets here.” 

Isaac and I followed Taylor into the living. Mom would understand if we didn’t help, just this once. We settled on the couch and I started to get that feeling back. It was the three of us against the world, no matter what life threw at us, or what we did to each other. Survival was in our very nature, and in that moment, I knew we would do just that. 

* * *

 

May, Hanson Day

 

I walked out on stage to a noise that had become familiar to me over the last 20 years - fans cheering for my brothers and I. It was bittersweet, we wouldn’t get a chance to play for them again for at least a few years. My kids stood with my parents. I had become used to seeing Natalie backstage with them, but I had my brothers with me on stage, and that mattered most. 

Zac clicked his drumsticks together, and as I launched into the first verse of our new song, I thought maybe, just maybe, our lyrics had been right all along. Maybe life isn’t about what happens to you, but about the people in it that make it all worth fighting for.


End file.
